


The Game

by Rayac



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by The Hunger Games, Seven Deadly Sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 61,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayac/pseuds/Rayac
Summary: When an ancient Underground Law threatens to trap the Labyrinth in shadows, Sarah Williams is summoned to fulfill the terms of her victory. Let The Game begin.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 17
Kudos: 39





	1. The Only Option

_It was happening again. Everything was spinning._

_The ballroom, bathed in amber fire, hummed wildly around her. Dressed in a gown of silver moonlight and caught between faceless dancers draped in jeweled silk, she drank in the dream. Slowly, she weaved through the gilded hall as shaped spun around her. The richly mirrored walls reflected their empty eyes and painted faces._

_A flash of pale gold passed before her. Too many faces. She had to get out. She couldn't get out._

" _She must come…can't wait…now."_

_A disembodied voice echoed through the hall. Sarah spun blindly towards the sound, her layered skirts swirling around her. There was something she needed to do. Something important. But there were too many faces. She couldn't focus._

" _Sawah…help," a new voice growled._

_Darkness fell upon the enchanted hall, drowning out the pleading voices. Heavy shadows seeped through forgotten corners and veiled figures with hooded eyes took their place among the dancers. Night burdened the hall, imprisoning the golden fantasy. Her heart ran wild, but she stood frozen in time._

"… _before too late…my lady…" mumbled a third weakly._

_The amber glow dimmed until it faded completely. The crowd of dancers grew restless, hopeless, before falling to the floor en masse. The mirrored walls shattered behind them, revealing crumbling cobbled grounds and barren plains. The shadows urged her towards the winding paths._

_Another flash of color, this time a calming blue and warm brown._

_She was surrounded by heavy ebony, trapped in a mythical nightmare. It was too much. Sarah gave in to the pressure, running for the labyrinthine escape beyond the shattered crystal._

"… _don't call her...must be another way…going to be late for lunch."_

_Wait. What?_ Sarah drifted in and out of consciousness. _Not another dream about the Laby…_ Sarah quickly banished the thought.

"Come on Sarah! We're going to be late."

Sarah urged a single eye open, then quickly clenched it shut. _Too early. Much too early. I'm still sleeping, just let me sleep._ Kate Wilson, on the other hand, was not convinced.

"It's no use pretending to sleep girl, I know you're awake. How can you still be in bed…it's almost noon!"

Sarah moaned and methodically rolled to her back. _Damn_. Her traitorous eye inched open a second time as she searched out the owner of the voice.

"Well," Kate prodded, "are you coming or not? They aren't going to wait all day."

Another moan. Sarah buried her head deep into her emerald bedding, reveling in the warmth. _Not yet._ Sarah thought, _just a few more minutes…_

A barrage of ice water quickly jarred Sarah from her thoughts. Still tangled in the sheets, she fell soundly to the wooden floor.

"Good god!" She cried. "What was that for?"

Sarah snapped both of her tired gray eyes open and properly considered the figure now perched on her bed above her. Long, honeyed brown hair, startlingly blue eyes…

_Kate._ Sarah realized with a sullen pang. _Really, Sarah, who else were you expecting?_

"Oh come on, it was just a little water. And look, it helped you out of bed!"

Sarah untangled herself from the fabric and got to her feet, padding across the floor towards her closet.

"Yeah, yeah…remind me to thank you later."

Yawning, she pulled a pair of dark jeans from its hanger, and threw them deftly over her right shoulder. She turned back to the mass of clothes. Her prized theatre costumes, packed tightly between pants and pullovers, dangled precariously from their hooks. At 20, Sarah Williams had achieved more than most actors did in a lifetime. Her most recent off-broadway success proved it. She was good. The critics knew it, her college friends knew it. Hell, even she was honest enough to admit it. But it still wasn't enough. She had hoped that once she'd been cast in her dream role, her nagging inner urges for something more would be silenced. How wrong she was. After each final bow and glowing review, the chasm in her chest expanded, threatening to swallow her whole. Something was missing from her life; something she had yet to pinpoint. _Come on Sarah, now is not the time to wallow in self-pity._ She cleared her head and turned back towards the vibrant colors.

_Where is that sweater? I know I just had it dry-cleaned…_

Sarah tiredly craned her neck backwards.

"Have you seen my mock-neck…" A flash of crimson flew at her. "…sweater?"

Sarah saw Kate grinning sheepishly through the eye not covered by woven fabric. Pulling the sweater from her face, she closed the closet doors and slowly crossed back across the room towards the hallway, pulling the sweater on as she went.

"Hurry up girl, the guys are meeting us there in twenty. And rumor has it they are bringing a friend," Kate practically sing-songed. "A very _handsome_ friend…"

"Ugh. Not another one. I already told you Kate, I'm not looking for a boyfriend!"

Kate frowned and followed Sarah down the hall towards their apartment's small restroom.

"But Sarah…"

"Not now. I have enough to worry about. Like Orwell's calculus final, or Madame's paper on symbolism in French Literature. Now THAT is a mistake of a class. 'Ah bonjour, Madame! Mais _Oui,_ Madame. Vous etes toujours _magnifique_ , Madame'."

The door shut quickly and the sound of running water was heard through the wall.

"But Sarah…"

"And I really should be looking for a job…my college loans are going to kill me otherwise…"

"Yes, but…"

"Plus, I haven't even spoken to my family in weeks. God knows what Irene has tortured Toby with…"

"SARAH!"

"What, Kate, what?"

The white oak door was thrown open to find Sarah fully dressed with brush in hand, calming her shoulder-length chocolate tresses.

"He's a friend from out of town. From what I heard, he's just here for a few days to visit Evan and Anthony."

"…Oh."

Sarah smiled weakly.

"Sorry about that Kate. I haven't been sleeping and well, I'm a little stressed out."

Kate softened considerably, "Care to share? You having bad dreams or something?"

"Something like that," mumbled Sarah.

The pair flipped off the hall lights and continued down the hallway, pausing only once to grab Sarah's car keys from the hook in the kitchen. Throwing open the worn front door, they hurried down the three flights of stairs into the nearest car. The battered blue Honda lurched sharply as it backed out of the lot.

"Maybe you _should_ get a job Sarah, this car isn't even going to make it to the restaurant!"

"At least I have a car," she mocked, effectively silencing her friend for the remainder of the drive downtown.

* * *

"We must summon her, my lord! One wish is all it takes. The dwarven city is all but deserted, and the Magobi Plains have withered to nothing. As your advisor I feel as if it is my duty to…"

"Enough!" bellowed the king. With feline grace, he leapt from his chair and began his prowl across the throne room. Long gloved hands rose to pinch the bridge of his aquiline nose in frustration. Leather clad feat paced once, twice, three times before his advisor. He paused, frowning, to consider his next move.

Jareth, King of the Goblins, was deeply troubled.

For many Underground leaders, this seemed an average, everyday occurrence. But Jareth was far from average. He was Goblin King, Lord of the Labyrinth, and Keeper of the Game. He was the most powerful being in his land, possessing the sole ability to alter time and space as he pleased. But he was also the most vulnerable to the Wild Forces, and even he couldn't keep It from calling. Time was fading for his kingdom and as much as he detested admitting it, he was running out of options.

She would have to be called. _Damn._

"Give word to the elders that she'll be here by dawn," Jareth commanded, "but stress that she will be residing with _me_ until the Game commences. Do I make myself clear, Sir Didymus?"

The loyal knight nodded once, sharply, and turned back from the throne room. After ensuring his dismissal, he straddled his mount and bounded out the door to prepare for the journey East.

"Let us hope that you have yet to lose your inner fire," the King whispered to himself. "My Sarah…"

Sir Didymus bowed his head in respect. For a beast with a misguided sense of smell, his hearing was impeccable. _My Lady, please forgive His Majesty for what must be done._

Unfortunate as it was, Underground Law still reigned supreme. Come dawn, the Game would begin.


	2. A Case of the Sundays

Café Escape hardly felt like an escape in Sarah's opinion. Even though the other customers in the cafe seemed to pay their corner table no attention, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling of being watched. Denim clad legs crossed absentmindedly. _I hate Sundays,_ she mused. _Aren't people supposed to be home with their families?_ She quelled the proceeding urge to laugh. _These nightmares are giving me serious paranoia._

"So then he said, 'no, but it wasn't even MY dog!' Can you believe it?" Kate nudged her friend forcefully.

The brunette jumped in shock, rattled from her daydreams. She shrugged halfheartedly and returned her thoughts to the previous night. _I wish I knew why after five years I'm suddenly plagued by dreams of the Labyrinth._ She furrowed her brow in contemplation. _It doesn't make any sense._ Evan Morrow cautiously eyed her from across the table while she picked apart her sandwich.

"Jeez, Sawah, what did that samwich," he swallowed, "…ever do to you? Are you sure you're feeling ok? Do you want to talk about it?"

_Ever thoughtful Evan._ Sarah returned his gaze to meet two concerned eyes of the deepest coal, shaded by messy brown bangs. A sickle shaped glob of mustard marred his otherwise flawlessly tanned skin. _Why couldn't I dream about him instead?_ She silently pleaded. Realizing she was still staring, she forced out a response.

"N-oo...I'm alright. Just tired, that's all."

"Nightmares," Kate coughed to the three other lunch guests, pointing an accusatory finger in Sarah's direction.

"Kate!" Sarah elbowed her friend, knocking an unsuspecting glass salt shaker completely off the table in the process. She watched in superstitious horror as it shattered.

_Shattered glass, leading to winding paths…_

Her lungs clenched as she sat immobile, watching the metal lid roll to her left and land by a large, sneaker clad foot. The sneaker's owner, _Anthony_ , _she noted,_ pushed back his chair and dropped to the floor.

_Shadows surfaced as dancers fell to the floor en masse…_

Sarah's heart was racing. The room was spinning again. Why was it so warm in the restaurant? She had to get out, right now.

Anthony sighed. Collecting the pieces in his napkin, he too eyed Sarah with concern.

"Nightmares or not, you aren't yourself. Why don't you head home and sleep? Besides, that waiter over there is giving you a dirty look. We better head out before he decides to spit in your drink or something. I'll drive if you want, my car is parked right out back," he offered, shrugging a twenty out of his wallet. After sliding it under a corner of his plate, he pulled his coat off the back of the rod-iron chair and wordlessly offered it to Sarah.

Sarah shook her head but rose from the table, her half-eaten tuna sandwich forgotten. She willed the visions to dissipate as she found the worried eyes of her friends. _I am here_ , she chanted, _I am safe. Nothing is out of the ordinary._

"Thanks Anthony, but I brought my car. A little rest may do me good. Kate?"

"Err, well, actually…," she faltered, glancing at Evan and Anthony's friend Ben out of the corner of her eye.

_Some friend you are, charmed by a boy you met thirty minutes ago._ Nodding once to her companions, Sarah found her bag underneath the table. After pulling a ten from her own wallet, she rushed through the cafe and out the door.

Inside, a pair of mismatched eyes watched her retreat with veiled interest.

* * *

"Is you sure that's what he said?" A suspicious dwarf asked of his companion.

"On my honor, Sir Hoggle, the King demanded it!"

"Hmpf. Well. Hoggle don't like it one bit. Stay in the castle, he says? With him?" His displeasure was emphasized by an ensuing snort.

"I am certain His Majesty will do everything in his power to help our fair maiden through her task! Forget not the bravery she possessed not 3 moons ago…," Sir Didymus attempted to reason in vain.

"I's not saying he won't help her. I just don't like her staying with _him_ , is all. It's his fault we's in such a mess to begin with! If he hadn't given her… _oh_! Hoggle don't like it one bit!"

The knight nodded solemnly. He too feared for his raven-haired friend.

Behind the pair, another tower in the goblin city crumbled to the streets. A sandy cloud ascended, choking the life from the kingdom.

But he feared for the vanishing Underground even more.

* * *

The crisp autumn wind scraped Sarah's face as she stepped down from the city curb in front of the café. Moaning and howling with beastly voracity, it overpowered her senses. _Stay calm, it's just the wind. S_ he nervously brushed off the storm of leaves which clung to her hair. Tilting her face downwards, she folded her nose within the warmth of the mock neck and crossed the street. The temperature had shifted with such sudden intensity that Sarah couldn't keep from shivering. It was much colder than it should have been, even for November.

It was barely afternoon, but night was falling fast. Heavy clouds filled with sinister promise captured the horizon. The ornate streetlamps lining the sidewalk burst to life, weak beacons through a dense lidded fog. Sarah stumbled through the mist until she found her car.

Unlocking the driver's side door, she quickly scrambled inside to escape the elements. _Seatbelt, mirrors, engine…_ a white hot flash lit up the sky, blanking her vision momentarily. She leapt in her seat, knocking her head back against the headrest.

_Get it together, Sarah! Drive home. Left, Straight, Second Right, Straight. Yes. Almost there... Just keep going._

Sarah turned onto the familiar wooden bridge which led to her apartment complex just as she heard the car sputter a word of protest. _Not now._ Long accustomed to the ornery disposition of her beat-up ride, she attempted to shrug off the nagging feeling that crept up her spine. But this time something was really wrong. The car cried out a second time, and she pulled it off to the side in frustration.

"Damn it!" she swore.

Kicking open the door in a swift motion, she eyed the hood with disgust. Steady wisps of smoke rose in mocking swirls. Fists clenched, she began the trudge back to her apartment. Her four boots clicked rhythmically along the planks. _There better be a garage still open…wait. Four boots?_

There were two distinct sets of footsteps. She stopped abruptly in her tracks, whipping her head around in concern. Someone else was on the bridge. The fog was closing in around her and she fought wildly against the familiar feeling of claustrophobia.

"H-ello? Who's there?" She called out blindly.

She didn't expect a response. In fact, she hoped for none. She wished that the fog would lessen up and show her that she was being silly, imagining strangers on the remote bridge behind her.

Sarah suddenly knew the reason why she hated Sunday so much.

"Hello Sarah."


	3. Standing a Chance

Sarah snapped, backpedaling through the mist until she slammed into the splintered railing behind her.

_Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic._

A figure, dressed in archaic finery, stalked from the twisting fog. A wild mane of corn silk hair fell in long, shaggy layers over his brow. The strands shaded his shining face, a clean canvass of wild planes and sharp angles. Vehement gusts of wind brushed errant wisps behind two pale ears. Pointed thin at their tips, they mirrored the ethereal markings which framed the monarch's charcoal rimmed orbs. Aware of the brunette's scrutiny, their mismatched depths shone with mirth.

"Perhaps this will be _easier_ than I thought," he purred, pausing a few feet before her.

_The bastard was amused_. Sarah's temper flared.

"Wh-at," she bristled. "Why you son-of-a—" Her curse was dragged from her lips by a lazy flourish. She reached for her throat in surprise, struggling to finish her response. Pursing her lips in anger, she tried another tactic.

_Bullseye._

Wiping the spit from his lashes, he narrowed his eyes in disdain.

"You'd do well to watch your tone, girl." He leaned closer, whispering low in her ear. "You wouldn't want to cause any more trouble."

Sarah instinctively jerked her face away from the near contact. The hairs back of her neck were drawn tall by magnetic force and she shivered mechanically. Her claustrophobia was sinking in and her inability to respond amplified it ten-fold. She willed her focus to the worldly surroundings.

_I'm on a wooden bridge, warped by rain and time. Autumn foliage, born from knobby branches. The river below flowed freely over eroded bends._

_Whole. Solid. Tangible._

She risked a glance back towards the otherworldly vision before her. _No need to worry. Maybe this was just a coincidental encounter…a chance New England holiday._

"I assure you, I would not set foot in your pathetic little world unless it was absolutely necessary," he cut in, negating her train of thought.

_Maybe not._

As if sensing her vocal discomfort, he nonchalantly flicked his dominant wrist. The invisible bonds melted away and Sarah's throat sighed in relief. Testing its strength, she found her will once more.

" _Absolutely necessary?" S_ he ground out. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Didn't I settle this five years ago when I beat you at your own game?"

Sarah frowned at his audacity to chortle back in response. She didn't find the situation at all funny. She clearly was missing something. Perhaps a different approach would even the playing field.

"I'm not sure why my confusion brings you so much amusement. You seem to be forgetting one important detail. You. Have. No. Power. Over. Me. Period. End of story. Game over."

Again with the laughing! Sarah's subconscious flared in warning. She had a nagging suspicion that she was not going to like where this was headed. Worry seeping in; she decided to finish her demands before he silenced her again.

"…And stop messing with my mind! My life is trouble enough without all your shadowy dream-scapes" she threw in for good measure.

Jareth seemed genuinely surprised with her outburst. Bringing one curved fist to his lips, his expression turned thoughtful.

"It has been taking matters into It's own hands." He murmured, pensive. "So it has already begun…"

Sarah's panic burst from its fleshy prison. Her hands grew clammy and she wiped the thin bead of perspiration from her brow. Something was beginning? More like something was wrong. Very wrong.

"You better tell me what's going on Goblin King, or I'll, I'll…"

"You'll what? Spit me to death? _Wish_ me away?" He all but snarled. "I hope you don't honestly believe you can rid me so simply." Sarah sputtered in protest and he edged his tone higher. "But since you asked so nicely, I'll grant you one favor."

Guarded silver eyes met his mismatched orbs as she waited on bated breath for elaboration.

"I'll make our trip back as… _restful…_ for you as possible." He grinned devilishly.

The wooden bridge rose to meet Sarah's face, and she succumbed to the night. The weary monarch sighed in pain. Jareth bent down to cradle her unconscious form in his arms, murmuring into her hair.

"I know you despise me now but believe me dearest Sarah, this is the only way you'll stand a chance."

When Kate and Ben passed the bridge, hours later, the king and his prize were long gone. Sarah's old Honda, now humming merrily despite the cold, was the only sign she'd ever been there.

* * *

An unseen arm trapped the helpless creature in its sinister grasp. Worn frail from fighting the curse, it collided hard into the fallen wood. Brittle legs collapsing in defeat, the cricket yielded to nature's premature call. Beady eyes drawn to the fading scenery, it watched in trepidation as a hulking shadow rushed forth. Then it knew no more.

Hurdling purposefully over the cricket's final resting place, the shadow's muddied paws landed in a thorny brush at labyrinth's edge. Yowling in surprise, it jostled his rider in his perch.

"Steady Ambrosious!" The fox placated. "Now is not the time to dally in the mud. The night is almost upon us and we must complete our quest with the utmost haste."

The small fox urged his stead forwards, guiding him around the intricately carved rubble and into the open Eastern plains. Squinting his good eye tight, he gazed upon the far horizon. A blurred but unmistakable tower kept watch over the desert below. Prodding his left foot inward, he forced the beast to shift his path slightly, grazing a cobbled wall of the labyrinth's former entrance in the process. The barrier creaked in warning and dissolved instantly into dust. The knight cringed in sorrow.

"There's no time to lose, boy. Onwards!" Sir Didymus pushed. The pair traveled straight and true for the remainder of their journey, gaze centered solely on their target. They couldn't afford to wait much longer.

* * *

"Elide, your concern in duly noted, but rest assured, we have the situation under control," a confident voice soothed. "Only one contender evades the call, and she has not the will to fight much longer."

Dressed regally in white silken robes, the queen smiled down upon her worried subject. Beside her, hunched on an identical throne of gold inlaid marble, the High King of the Underground mumbled something unintelligible. Without raising his head, he shooed the peasant away with a single flick of his wrist.

"I do hope your instinct is right, Amarette." The king rolled his neck towards his wife. "This can't continue much longer. This is precisely why we keep what belongs in the Underground, well, in the Underground! The separation is tearing the lands apart."

"Peace Cáel, if our lands react with such hostility to the split, the girl from above should be feeling an exemplary strain, yes?" Without waiting for his ensuing nod, she continued. "In any case, a girl strong enough to elude It's call will make for a most entertaining participant in our Game. We may have a mortal victor yet!"

The queen twisted one manicured hand through her long auburn locks, resetting the sapphire encrusted tiara resting there. After guaranteeing its stability, she rose to her feet and brushed the wrinkles in her gown free. She would deal with the remaining subjects later. For now, she would rest. A tired moan interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm _sorry_ sir, but Their Majesties are no longer hearing complaints. If you'd be so good to return tomorrow…," urged the royal guard.

"I say! This is urgent! I bring news of the final contender; word straight from King Jareth!"

The queen turned back to her husband with a knowing look, and waved the messenger in.

"Good knight, what news have you of the girl from above?"

* * *


	4. A Question of Power

At first glance, the bedchamber appeared empty.

Long forgotten by time, the room's furnishings were coated in a fine layer of dust. Burgundy drapes fluttered in the breeze as a stark humidity filtered in through the open bay window. Wide mahogany dressers lined the room's eastern wall, their drawers rusted shut from non-use. The room seemed untouched, unspoiled by human hands.

Perhaps the most unique fixtures were the grand tapestries plastering the walls. Although tattered from age, they weaved a sacred history of the Underground; an account few elders knew the half of.

The walls of the labyrinth could be seen rising from the ashes in the largest drape. If one focused hard in just the right corner of the folds, two complementary figures with russet and wheat locks could be made out. The piece did not rest alone. The origin of the fae, the coming of the elves, the taming of the dwarves; each story performed to a silent audience. As the room waited, the scenes hung suspended in time.

How unfortunate that the room's intended inhabitant was unable to appreciate them.

"Zzzzzuuuuunnnn….zzzzzzzzzuuuuuunnnn."

Throaty snores carved through the solitude. Although the sound would have embarrassed the girl had she been awake, her subconscious shrugged off the notion. It had been so long since she'd properly rested. She slumbered on dreamlessly.

Some time later, a sliver of golden light trickled through the chamber's western window, settling warmly upon the scene. Muted tones promptly reverted to their daytime splendor. The chests were not, in fact, the deep mahogany as previously noted, but an ambered cherry. The wood glistened bright behind the grime.

The Labyrinth, tired of playing the anxious child on Christmas Eve, pushed dawn's early rise. Preparations were finally complete and reconnection was eminent. The entity no longer yearned for the champions' return, but their participation. At long last, the first stage of the Game could commence. Pleased by an unexpected entrance within the chamber, the impatient entity nudged against the aboveworlder.

A tousled head twitched in reply. Two clothed arms were drawn out from the cream sheets to rest crookedly beside the pillows. Slowly, they stretched taught, pushing the girl up off her stomach. She habitually reached for her bedside table clock. Her hand, still pressed with the fabric's creases, grazed burning liquid instead.

"Owh!" she shook her hand out. "Enough with the wet wake-up calls, Kate. I was finally having a good night's sleep. Just go away." She turned back to the warmth of the pillow.

A feminine stutter jumped in. ""S-s-cuse me miss, I d-didn't mean no harm!"

Sarah's eyes snapped open and she groaned in recognition.

_Damn, it hadn't been a dream._ She frowned. _And now I'm probably back in the Labyrinth. Wonderful._

Moving to a sitting position, she regarded the visitor. Unruly curls in an unlikely shade of green confirmed her fears; there was no way she was still in Connecticut. Possessing beady red eyes and a complexion of smudged charcoal, the girl paralleled the human traits Sarah so cherished. Stubby hands, short two digits by Sarah's count, fingered the silver crescent speared through her peculiarly shaped right lobe.

A chirpy tone broke in; the goblin girl was speaking again.

"….want to start…."

"Pardon?" Sarah questioned, shaken from her reverie.

"Thought you might be hungry. Miss wouldn't want to start It on an empty stomach."

"And just what is It?" Sarah's narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Just a bit of porridge and spiced cider…but please miss, if there's something you'd rather, just ask! Toffee'd be glad to fetch it for you." The goblin hurriedly supplied.

Sarah fought the urge to roll her eyes. The poor girl was obviously trying.

"Toffee is it? You wouldn't happen to know _why_ I'm here would you?"

She was met with a guilty smile and a nod of jade locks. "I may…"

Sarah motioned for her to continue.

The smile faded. "But I's not supposed to tell…His Majesty forbids it, you see. Says it's not anyone's place but his. I has orders not to say much of anything." She clamped her mouth shut in fear, biting down sharply on her bottom lip.

The gears in Sarah's head began to spin. If the girl couldn't explicitly _say_ the reason, perhaps she could work with the promise, and still figure out the situation. After all, it worked with Sir Didymus' sworn oath.

The goblin girl mistook her contemplative state for anger and jumped in again, wringing her hands nervously. "I's real sorry miss! Believe me, I'd tell you if I could but…"

Sarah cut her off. "I get it, I get it. You can't say." Leaning forward on the mattress, she continued. "But if I guess, or was on the right track, a simple nod wouldn't be 'saying', right?"

The girl scrunched her face tight, considering the proposal.

_Now just to push it along. Maybe I can play off her guilt…_

"And if this is my last meal before this big 'It', shouldn't I be as prepared as possible? You wouldn't want me to be unprepared, would you?"

"Oh! Well, no miss...but it ain't your last meal…at least, I hope not." She shrugged apologetically. "It all depends, you see, on your perf…" She stopped mid-sentence, her face paling considerably.

With a dramatic 'pop', the girl vanished on the spot.

_Drat. So close, yet so far. I wonder what her rush was?_

If she had to guess, she assumed that something had spooked the girl. She had seemed a bit jumpy to begin with. Sarah glanced around the room for any visible changes. The wind had picked up slightly, ruffling the peculiar tapestries surrounding her canopy bed, but other than that, nothing seemed out of place. Even so, Sarah waited for the proverbial axe to drop. Nothing was ever what it seemed in this place.

Minutes passed, and still Sarah found nothing which warranted the girl's abrupt departure. Maybe, this time it was what it seemed…just a spooky little goblin. Shaking her head in amusement, she pushed the covers off her legs and swung them off the bed. She eyed the food on the nightstand warily; she remembered all too well what trouble her last meal Underground wrought.

_No way am I going there. I have to get out of here before someone else checks in._

After pulling on her boots, she crept towards the ornate door nestled between the two longest tapestries. Seeking the gilded knob, she turned it sharply. It refused to budge. Sarah growled in frustration and threw herself up against the beams, hoping to force it open. After a couple painful jars, she slid to the floor in defeat. It was no use; whoever had locked her in clearly didn't want her getting out.

From her viewpoint against the door, Sarah could see the far reaching Labyrinth spiral out the open window. On impulse, she leapt to her feet and ran to the railing. Looking down quick with anticipation, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She was only on the second floor; perhaps escape was still possible.

She grabbed the nearest sheet of fabric, an extensive piece of burgundy drapery, and ripped it from the windowpane. Tying it tight around the bars, she tossed it over the edge. After carefully winding a section around her wrist for safety, she climbed over after it. The last thing she needed to do was fall.

Sarah scaled down the wall with ease, thankful that she'd watched a few spy movies in her time. She absently brushed her jeans off and prayed that nobody would notice her disappearance for awhile. Head starts always seemed to help secret agents. Picking a random direction, Sarah walked into the goblin city, mumbling to herself.

"I wonder if I can get out the same way I got in…although I doubt I'll have a whole thirteen hours head start. Maybe if I called Hoggle, or Sir Didymus…" The thought pained her. She hadn't called her friends in some time, preoccupied by the trials of college life.

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," a velvety suggestion caressed her ear.

Sarah spun around in surprise. He was near enough that she could see the individual hairs on his face. She found herself unconsciously drawn to the ones above his mouth. He was close. She gulped. Much too close. The laughing glint in his eyes, combined with the thin smirk on his lips, a tactic which probably left other girls swooning, especially in this close proximity, only succeeded in riling Sarah up. He certainly knew how to get a rise out of her. She forcibly pushed his chest back and instantly regretted it. For a lithe man, he really was quite muscular.

Sarah swallowed. " _Any_ way is better than here. I don't know what the hell you've kidnapped me for, but I don't want any part of it."

"Oh Sarah, I haven't kidnapped you at all."

"Oh really?" She skeptically replied. "So I just teleported myself into your dimension, did I?"

"Certainly not. Teleportation takes years of practice to master. But no, I didn't bring you here either. Facilitate the exchange, yes, but like you so eloquently said, I have no power over you."

Sarah chose to ignore the part on practice and pounced on what she understood. "Then _why_ am I here if I have power of you and your silly maze?"

Jareth opened his mouth to argue the point, but waved off her demand instead. "It is of little consequence right now, there is nothing you can do to fight it. I suggest you return to your chamber. Eat, don't eat, it matters little to me. I could care less if you prepare."

"Prepare for what?!" She all but shouted.

"The Game."

"I don't think so. I've had enough of your games. You don't play fa…" She caught herself. "That is…you don't follow the rules."

"That's twice now you've falsely accused me. You would make a terrible Underground peacekeeper." He ignored her shocked expression. "Tell me, specifically, when did I go back on my word?"

"Err…well, you…no. There was that time when…ah…" She trailed off. Try as she might, she couldn't name a single instance where he broke his promise. Skirted, bent, and twisted into a knot, yes, but never explicitly 'broke'.

He sniffed. "I thought so."

Sarah was beyond frustrated now. A few false accusations shouldn't have made her so guilty, but they did. She was supposed to be the good guy; the heroine in his sinister ploy. He had no right to make her feel like the villain.

"Argh, it doesn't matter. I'm not home, I want to be home, and you are the only one around with the ability to take me from home. That's good enough for me. Now if you'd be so kind to zap me back to my car?"

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Yes."

Sarah ground her teeth. She wasn't getting anywhere fast. All she was knew was that she was here for some 'Game' and nobody wanted to explain it to her.

"Fine. I'll do it my way then." She turned back towards the Labyrinth. She didn't think it looked as big as she remembered. Actually, she was certain of it. The maze was definitely smaller, the twists and turns relegated to a few clear paths through the dust. Those thirteen hours didn't seem so unreasonable in light of these changes.

_Perhaps he's remodeling?_

"That is precisely why I wouldn't recommend entering yet. You wouldn't want an unfair advantage over the others, now would you? Actually…" He paused dramatically. "…I'm not quite sure what would happen if you entered early." He suddenly grinned. "On second thought, I take it back. By all means, trudge into the Labyrinth now. You've roused my curiosity."

"Others."

He nodded.

"Others?"

"I'm not deaf, you know. I heard you the first time."

"I'll repeat it until I get an actual answer!" Sarah yelled.

"It's out of my power. Like I said, it's best if you just accepted the situation. It will all be explained soon."

An idea struck Sarah. He was quite forceful in his denouncement of power. Maybe, just maybe, she did hold a small advantage.

"Goblin King—" his mouth twitched in distaste at the formal title. She pressed on.

"I wish you would tell me _exactly_ why I'm here."


	5. One Rightful Challenger

A menacing sneer graced Jareth's pale face.

"Do you now? Very well. As always, your wish is my command." Gloved fingers brought a translucent crystal to life, and the goblin city faded into the background, leaving Sarah to wonder if she had ever been there at all. Slowly, she was able to make out the approaching surroundings.

The only word which could accurately describe the room was 'trashed'. No, perhaps 'decimated' fit better. Grayed and scuffed from apparent pacing, the room's floor was littered with mangy white feathers and empty ale barrels. Frayed scraps of fabric stretched across the open windows. Sarah watched enamored as a large chunk fell from the drape farthest from her position and floated to the ground. Sunk deep into the floor's center dropped a circular hole half-filled with similar scraps. Jareth marched around the gap, settling himself upon a horned throne, and lounged across its curved arms. Sarah snorted in amusement as the right armrest proceeded to crack under the unexpected weight and crumble to the floor. The fresh layer of dust was hardly noticeable.

Jareth growled in irritation as he straightened. " _That_ is why you are here, foolish girl, to undo the damage you've caused."

Sarah tilted her head in disbelief. "You must have sniffed one too many cans of hairspray because you've lost it. Seriously. You're just pissed off because your castle is in shambles—"

"Do NOT presume to underestimate a situation you know nothing about. I assure you, everything you see, everything which has fallen apart, is a result of your actions."

"Oh come on, you can't honestly blame me for not keeping up with your castle maintenance." She rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Of course! I completely forgot to mention that the maid has been on vacation for the last five years. How could I have _ever_ overlooked it?"

With unparalleled speed, he pushed himself into a standing position before the throne, a hungry glint in his eyes. She watched him prowl back around the hole, lazily swaying his hips back and forth. Sarah's mercurial nerves shrank as she became the antelope game of Jareth's feline hunt. He stalked ever closer, gaze transfixed on Sarah's pallid face.

_Perhaps sarcasm wasn't the best idea._

"Your gall never ceases to astound me. After all this time, you still remain the spoiled brat." He left her no time for rebuttal. " _However_ , since you have insisted precise explanation, I ask that you at least refrain from making inane comments while I do so."

Silver eyes narrowed, but the girl remained silent for several seconds.

"There now, was that really so difficult? I sometimes wonder if…" He paused, grimacing as an unseen force shook through his torso. "No matter. You demanded answers and that is what you will receive." He cupped a gloved hand across his chin. "But perhaps not here. Sit."

Sarah fell backwards with a screech and flung her arms back to brace the fall against the stone. Instead, she found herself sprawled across a familiar feathered comforter. Jareth's lip twitched once before he turned his face to the tapestry laden walls.

Pointing to the leftmost piece, he started. "As you may have deduced, the Labyrinth is not a being eternal. It was created some millennia ago by the elders of the Underground as a… _test_ of sorts, a living challenge of sand and stone." He gave her an icy glare. "I do not believe I need to explain the circumstances of one such contest to you." Under his daggered sight, Sarah's cheeks flamed abashedly, and she sank deeper into the mattress.

He nodded, moving onward to a tightly stitched image of seven beings. Although each possessed a varied countenance, all oozed the same distinct power. "What you are not aware of are the natures of the other contests held within the Labyrinth."

Sarah's ears instantly perked forward. "Other contests? Like races or games of hide and seek or something?"

A withering stare this time. " _Really_ Sarah, the Underground is not a realm of six year olds. No, the Labyrinth is used both as a challenge for those who choose it on the spot, such as yourself, or for those who willingly and knowingly prepare for its tests. The Labyrinth is not just a maze. It is a means of measuring strength, will, wisdom, and ingenuity as well as a possessor of the uncanny ability to gauge a participant's luck."

He doubled back in measured step, his demeanor slowly calming. "Now tell me, for what purpose would the unearthing of such talents be necessary?"

Sarah creased her brow, deep in thought. Just any answer wouldn't do. Following her innate yearnings for approval, she carefully pieced together what seemed to her the most logical response.

"Well, leaders, and rulers too I guess, are better off having some of those traits. Wait." Comprehension flared across her visage. "Is beating the Labyrinth a precursor to being King of the Goblins?"

He snorted indignantly. "Not quite, but correct in essentials. In the instance that a ruler is unable to continue his monarchy, all rightful hei—challengers of the Underground are thrust into the Labyrinth to find a capable replacement. It is a way of determining who is most worthy, and of course, who has the skills necessary to best lead the kingdom. As only one ever makes it out again, the choice is quite simple."

"That's barbaric!" She responded immediately. "Trapping people in a maze just because they weren't as quick as the other guy. No wonder I haven't seen any other people in the castle, they're all stuck in the Labyrinth!"

Jareth bit down on his tongue to keep from correcting her. It would not serve either of their agendas if she knew the true fates of the 'trapped' heirs. He shook her off with a determined wave.

"That is not the point of the story. The point is that the Labyrinth is also used to test the strengths of potential leaders… _all_ potential leaders. And this test of sorts, the Labyrinth's challenge, is known in this world as The Game."

"Alright, that's great and all, but exactly am _I_ doing here? I don't remember throwing my name into the ring."

"You have not been paying attention! Not all the challengers are willing, simply, rightful. Your previous _victory,_ " he spat out the last phrase, "grants you a place in The Game."

"Fine. I'll just give u—"

"NO!"

The force of his response startled both of the room's occupants, particularly the girl in the mock-neck sweater.

"And why the hell not?! I don't want any part of this world. I belong in Connecticut, in college with my friends and near my family. I belong _home._ There's no way I'm going through that maze again, especially for some kingdom I don't want!"

"Not even if doing so banished your nightmares?"

A sharp gust blew a chocolate tress across Sarah's face and she pushed it back, yelling out a reply. "Why you…you bastard! I knew you'd been sending me those dreams. Trying to blackmail me into playing some game, now that's twisted. I am not a puppet you can play with when you feel like it!"

If she was expecting an apology, it would be a long time coming; certainly not before the first round of The Game, at least. He didn't even seem to have heard her outburst.

"Or if not for the nightmares, perhaps for your friends, hmm? I certainly thought their pathetic little lives meant something to you. What were their names again? Hogsbreath, Hoghoof, Hogsnort…"

" _Hoggle,_ " she grit out.

"Yes, that's it. Precious Hoggle and his band of traitorous fools. I do hope you've said your good-bye's, why, it may already be too late."

"You better not have hurt them! They did nothing wrong in helping me. You have no reason to threaten them."

"Me?" He plastered a look of innocence onto his face and gestured automatically to his chest, "Like I've already said, everything you see, everything that has been destroyed is your fault. The Game is calling you, and your nightmares won't dissipate, nor will your friends be safe until you enter. I do hate to repeat myself, but it is out of my power. You truly have no choice but to do so."

As if on cue, a tawny owl glided through Sarah's escape window and dropped a sealed envelope at her feet. She reached instinctively for it as the bird hurried out the same way it came in. An insignia of three small stars arranged in a triangular design was stamped deep into the cooled blue wax. She did not wait for Jareth's permission before ripping open the letter addressed to ' _Lady Sarah'._

The sudden slip of the cultured mask was unbeknownst to the girl focused on the letter. His solemn gaze gone in a moment, Jareth pulled a clear crystal from thin air, and forced back his mocking persona. "It would appear as if the elders are under pressure to begin, and that you've missed your last proper meal for some time. What a pity."

In a flash, he appeared beside her, humming darkly into her ear. "Close your eyes tight, Sarah, it's time to go."

Before she could read the contents of her letter or utter a spark of protest, the room spun wildly for a third time that morning and the pair vanished in a pool of glitter.


	6. The Extravagent Elder Tower

Groaning in exasperation, Sarah had only one thought upon arrival.

_I should have kept my damn eyes closed._

She blinked twice to steady her vision. If the peculiar mode of travel hadn't been startling enough, the sight before her certainly was. Whereas Jareth's castle had been dusty, cramped and bleak, her current surroundings boasted a much different picture.

Sarah was relatively sure she was in an entrance hall of some kind. But she couldn't be certain. In her modest twenty years she had never seen an entrance hall so extravagant. From the pearly sheen of the roman columns to the diamond frosted chandeliers, the room oozed of a wealth found solely in fairy tale castles. It was difficult to resist the urge to twirl an imaginary gown and dance through the chamber, but Sarah's sensible side pleaded that such an action was misplaced.

Sensibility was overrated.

Fortunate for her pride, the action proved physically impossible. Even after mere seconds of sight, the illusion of passive elegance gave way to immeasurable power. The panoramic wave paralyzed her tight on the spot.

An extraordinary sense of purpose permeated the room and Sarah was taken aback by the force of the magic seeping from the walls. She was still in the Underground; of that much she was certain. No where on Earth could such enchantment exist.

Then again, seeing the small fox emerge from a room to her left was enough proof in itself.

"Sir Didymus!" She found her voice, quickly calling to the frail beast. "Boy am I glad to see you."

He angled his head in acknowledgement before wordlessly continuing his trot.

Sarah turned to hound him with questions but caught only the flick of his tail as he descended a circular staircase behind her. In seconds, he was out of sight.

_Well that was odd. Probably deserved, but still odd._

"Look, Goblin Ki—" she started, looking for her travel partner. He was not to be found.

_Figures. The one time I actually want to talk to him, he disappears._

Rash irritation broke her from the room's spell, and she balled her fists by her side. One fist at least; the second was reminded of its holdings by a sharp paper cut.

"Owh," she pushed her finger to her lips, sucking at the fresh wound while she opened the letter with her good hand. A flowery script covered the page.

~~~~~

_To the Lady Sarah,_

_Your presence is requested at Elder Tower posthaste. Preparation is unnecessary._

_Upon arrival, please follow the awaiting Watcher to your assigned holding room on the 11th floor. Refrain from contacting other guests or veering from your Watcher in the time prior to the Preliminaries. Failure to do so will result in brief power wave activation and imminent Game repercussions dependent on the severity of the incident._

_Game Ceremonies will begin at precisely 13 o'clock midday today where further orders will be given. While you are waiting within your hold, please feel free to utilize any provided necessities._

_We will be watching._

_May Orion align in your favor,_

_Their Majesties High King Cáel and Queen Amarette_

_~~~~_

"Holding rooms? _Watchers?!_ Where the hell am I…prison?" Scowling, she crushed the note in distaste.

"Hardly, Lady Sarah. You are at Elder Tower, as requested. Prison would be much less gaudy. Although possibly home to friendlier beings."

The girl in question found herself face-to-face with a grinning figure. Although dressed in a simple blue tunic and beige breeches, he still possessed the raw power which smothered the Underground. Pinned over his heart in exquisite detail was a golden representation of the three star insignia found stamped into her letter. Sarah eyed the symbol warily and said nothing to the new guest. She had met enough otherworldy beings to last her a lifetime.

She wasn't particularly fond of 'repercussions' either.

He chuckled at her obvious discomfort. "There's no need for silence, you are free to speak to me as you wish. Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Eran, your Watcher." He bowed deeply, soft chestnut hair falling over his face.

Sarah blushed rose at the formality. _No_ , she thought, _definitely not a prison guard._

"I apologize for the abrupt meeting, but I'm afraid we must be off. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your room." He turned on one polished heel, and walked towards the grand staircase at room's center, checking over his shoulder only once to ensure she followed.

She jogged to catch up with him as he ascended the third step. "Look Eran, I think there may be some kind of mistake. I never agreed to play this game and I don't plan on signing up anytime soon. I was brought here against my will by that twisted ass Jareth and I just want to go _home._ "

He paused and looked back once more. "As your Watcher, I recommend you keep your calm during the Preliminary Run, Lady Sarah. The elders will not appreciate you damning a royal son. Especially one such as His Majesty the Goblin King."

"But I don't plan on running at all! Don't any of you people listen?"

"People?" He smiled. "I'm sorry to confuse you more, but we aren't people in the sense you believe." Seeing her tense, he elaborated. "People, or mortals, have delicate and predetermined life spans. We follow no such rule. In your world we would be known as Fae, or Fair Folk." He paused for dramatic effect. "Immortals."

The pronouncement, combined with the haunted look in his midnight blue eyes, sent a single shiver down Sarah's spine. In her mind's eye, she recalled a brief mythological account she had read years before.

_Immortals. Fae. No wonder this thing was such a big deal. It's in their nature to love games and challenges._

_This could be a bigger problem than I thought._

_Damn._

"I still don't see how I am a qualified competitor. I can barely get my stepbrother to listen to me never mind an entire kingdom. That hardly counts as 'rightful'."

He didn't appear convinced.

"And I won't be much fun to watch anyway, the other entrants will probably just zap themselves right to the end!" She complained at the unfairness of the prospect.

This proclamation was at least met with a single raised eyebrow and a telling roll of eyes. "No challenger is permitted to use his or her magic to bypass a challenge, or regarding a challenger for any purpose apart from food, drink or shelter."

"Great. They'll just stuff poisoned fruit down my throat and be done with it," she mumbled.

"Come again?" he questioned.

Shaking her head in frustration, she followed Eran from the top of the staircase down a carpeted hallway. On either side of the ruby covered floor, portraits of ethereal beings graced the walls. Each face was distinctly beautiful but boasted comparable expressions of pride and relief.

_I wonder if these are winners of this game_. Passing a particularly daunting image, Sarah's uncertainty faded. These beings were champions, she was sure of it.

"Yes, they are magnificent, aren't they? I do apologize for jumping in but you are correct in your assumptions. Preparations for The Game are done in the Hall of Victors, the Game's past champions." He waved both hands to the framed walls. "It is where the holding rooms are always kept."

_Obviously, immortality was not the only talent Fae possessed._ Sarah was not all comforted by this knowledge. _With my luck, next they'll be walking through walls and shooting beams from their eyes._

Eran wandered to the end of the hall and gestured to a modest wood door on the right. "Here we are, holding room nine. You should find everything you need to prepare for the start of The Game inside. I will wait—oh, excuse me a minute."

Stepping off to the side of the hallway, Eran pulled out an iridescent sphere the size of a golf ball from his pocket and cradled it between both palms. "Yes…room nine, that's right. No, I—no, no problems at all. Now? Are you sure?...Very well, tell His Majesty I will be there shortly."

He stuffed the odd device back into his tunic pocket and patted the spot a few times as if the action would keep the sphere from leaping out. Unlocking the door with a flick of his wrist and pushing it wide open, he shooed Sarah inside.

"You must pardon me, Lady Sarah. It seems there is a situation which calls for my attention. Please, feel free to settle into your room and make good use of anything you find." He hesitated a bit before finishing. "I'm afraid I have orders to lock the door in the meantime. You understand of course."

"Oh…sure…," she sighed.

Satisfied with her answer, he bowed low once more and turned back towards the hallway the pair had traveled.

"And again, anything you feel will help you in preparing, _anything at all_ , take advantage of." The last phrase was emphasized in such a peculiar manner that Sarah couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his words.

She watched the door slam upon his departure and Sarah found herself alone. She didn't bother testing the locks and instead faced her temporary home.

If the brass grandfather clock within the room was accurate, Sarah found she had just under four hours until midday. Plopping herself down on one of the chamber's cushioned loveseats, she let her face fall into her hands to consider her predicament.

_Oh Sarah, what have you gotten yourself into? And just what are you going to do now?_

* * *

Eran hurried to the lower throne room on the fifth floor and announced himself to the attendant standing there.

"Eran of Elder Tower to see His Majesty," the guard intoned.

"Eran my friend! Come in, come in." King Cáel beckoned to his subject.

Walking into the chamber, Eran quickly realized why the call had been so urgent. The Keeper of the Game itself, Jareth, was leaning against an arm of the High King's throne. And he did not look pleased to see him. Not in the least.

"I apologize for keeping you from your lovely participant, but it appears we have a bit of a situation here." Cáel elbowed the foreign arm off his throne and continued. "It seems Jareth here has requested Watcher duties. And for reasons I still do not understand, he has demanded the Lady Sarah."

"Dear Cáel, there's no need to villainize me after I asked so nicely."

The High King snorted. "The day you simply _ask_ for something will be the day I eat my crown, old boy."

"Forgive me High King, but I'm not sure I follow. His Majesty Jareth is Keeper of the Labyrinth, of the very Game itself. If that is not a conflict of interests, I'm not sure what is."

"The only conflict of interests is you, boy." Jareth leered at the unsuspecting subject.

Hoping to avoid a violent clash between the two men, Cáel cut in. "I have checked and double-checked the ancient books but nowhere have I found a rule preventing any Fae from Watching. Keeper or not, Jareth is still Fae, and a King in his own right as you well know. Watcher privileges come first to those who have dealt with them prior." He shrugged apologetically. "Perhaps next Game, Eran."

The chestnut haired citizen knew this to be his cue to leave. He bowed before the High King, and after a slight hesitation, the King of the Goblins as well before leaving the throne room.

On his way out, Eran reflected on his lost charge. He may have been demoted from her Watcher, but he vowed to keep an eye on her on his own time.

The High King shifted towards his powerful friend. "I do hope you know what you are doing, Jareth. I doubt she will accept your help without a fight. She seems to be quite the spirited mortal."

Jareth grinned broadly. "Ah, but Cáel, that is what I am counting on."

Without further articulation, he disappeared in a customary burst of glitter.

Spitting the particles from his mouth, Cáel called after him. "I'll have you know, I just had this hall dusted!"

His complaint was followed by an onslaught of fresh glitter.

"Show off."

* * *

Sarah's thinking position was giving her a cramp in her neck. Lifting her head from its perch on her lap, she decided taking a proper look around would be more beneficial than wallowing.

Apart from the two cushioned loveseats and accompanying coffee table positioned in the center of the room, not much else was to be found. A long wide dresser was pushed to one side and a few various trinkets lied haphazardly on top. From her distance, nothing looked like helpful preparation. There was some kind of thin bottle containing a honey colored liquid capped by a cork. Two glowing spheres similar to the one Eran used, but slightly larger, rested alongside.

Opening the dresser's thickest drawer, Sarah found sets of comfortable looking tunics and leggings in various colors folded neatly into rows. The drawer above contained more clothes, this time old fashioned undergarments and tights. She pushed the rows aside, searching for something more economic, and instead grazed the end of something sharp. Pulling the object from the bottom, she regarded it in the light.

_A dagger…? Is this what Eran meant by helpful? What exactly goes on in this game?_

From the larger drawer, she pulled out a hunter green tunic and leggings in a rich brown and shrugged off her day slept-in jeans and mock-neck. At least now if she tried to escape, she wouldn't appear so obviously foreign.

As she slid the dagger into the elastic of her leggings, the shimmered spheres caught Sarah's eye once more she wondered if she could contact Eran and beg for release. It was at least worth a shot.

She attempted to cradle the first sphere as Eran had and spoke down at the device.

"Hello? Anybody there?" Nothing. "Eran?"

She shook her hands a couple of times for good measure. It always seemed to jar other electronics into starting. "Oh I wish this stupid thing would work!"

That seemed to do the trick and Sarah heard a low response.

"It might work better if you used it properly. But I shouldn't be surprised. Anything you figured out last time was due to pure luck."

The voice sounded too close to be coming from the bizarre communication device, and Sarah spun towards the direction of the criticism. An unwelcome guest stood in front of the grandfather clock.

"You! I was trying to contact Eran! He's been much more helpful. Why, he hasn't even tried to kill me yet!"

Jareth smirked. "It appears there was a minor mix-up with Watcher assignments and Eran had to be… relieved. In the meantime, I have kindly offered to step in."

"Great. _Just_ great." She stormed to her loveseat and fell ungracefully upon it. "Well, I hope you are a quiet Watcher person, I really am not in the mood to talk with you right now."

"Indeed. In that case, good luck figuring out the Preliminaries on your own." He turned slowly towards the door.

"Wait one minute buddy. Preliminaries? Is that what this 13 o'clock meeting is all about?"

He smiled, revealing two sharp canines. "Perhaps."

Sarah mulled her options over, before forcing out her statement. "I may not like you very much. Scratch that, I can't stand you at all. But I figure the faster I can finish this stupid game, the faster I can get out of here. I'll worry about passing off whatever rights the winner gets later. Kingdom or not, I don't want to run in your maze the rest of my life. So, start prepping me or doing whatever a Watcher is supposed to do."

His expression turned thoughtful. "Certainly. The Preliminaries are how the elders gauge your innate talents. As you may have guessed, it is done here in Elder Tower before the actual Game begins in my Labyrinth. You will be placed within a room with the other competitors to be viewed."

"Viewed? That's it? They just watch us stand in the room?"

"Basically." He shrugged one shoulder. "At least, that is all you will be doing."

"I'm not going to enjoy this very much, am I?"

Her worry rose when his only response was a wide, but knowing, smirk.

_Wonderful._

Sarah spent the remaining hours in the room counting the stones in the floor and had reached two hundred and forty-three before she lost track. Bored stiff, but not excited about speaking with the devil himself, who had she had caught staring at her for the past two hours, she stood to thoroughly check the drawers in the chest.

It was a good thing she did. In a small cabinet near the bottom, she pulled out a cloth pouch which could be tied around her midsection. She slid in the unusual crystal spheres that she had yet to figure out, and dropped in the corked vial for good measure. As she attached the bag to her person and pulled the tunic on top, a deliberate knock broke the silence.

"Lady Sarah, Your Majesty." A wiry youth stepped in and bowed. "They are ready for you at Preliminaries."

"Excellent. Come Sarah, you wouldn't want to miss opening festivities, now would you?"

She rolled her eyes at the happy prospect. "Whatever. I could use a change of scenery anyways."

Sarah was so absorbed in thought as she followed her captors back down the hall that she completely missed the familiar face hanging in the Hall of Victors.


	7. Preliminary Surprise

Even if Sarah had being paying attention to the path they took, she doubted she could have remembered her way back to room nine. Elder Tower was a labyrinth in itself, full of winding hallways and staircases which lead to some floors, but not others. There seemed to be no method to the madness of construction. And yet, not once did the group double back or come to a dead-end. She appreciated that her guard at least knew where they were. She didn't appreciate the lack of elevators.

Just as Sarah was about to ask for a break, she found herself lead down a hallway with uniquely high ceilings. This was by far the grandest passage and Sarah watched in trepidation as the twin glass doors at hall's end grew after each step. A nasally voice echoed behind her before they had the chance to open.

"I fail to see why all these amateurs are even _here_. It's not like they stand a chance."

Sarah bristled. Even though she wasn't Fae, she figured that she had as good a chance of anyone at winning this game. For starters, she'd already completed the Labyrinth once. How hard could a second time really be? And of course she had friends to help her through again. If they didn't ignore her such as Sir Didymus did, that is.

She regarded the owner of the offending tone in order to give her a piece of her mind and size up the competition. Upon sight, Sarah's confidence wavered.

_Oh shit._

The woman radiated pure energy. And she was simply standing there, hands on the hips of her plum ensemble. Her azure eyes, wide and shining, were fixated directly upon Sarah with a look that screamed disgust. The woman was surely a fellow competitor; Sarah could have matched her face to at least half of the portraits hanging in the hall of holding rooms.

Needless to say, she was not a welcoming sight.

"I thought I sensed a mortal nearby. They really are letting anyone compete now." She sniffed arrogantly. "Don't you know it is rude to stare?"

"Peace Lady Melina, I'm certain she means no harm." A mature woman in coordinated plum garb grabbed the competitor's shoulder in warning.

Sarah presumed her to be the vile woman's Watcher, although she seemed much older than Eran. She turned back to regard Jareth. Sarah had no guess to his age. In her mind, he was ageless.

"Pardon us, Madam, but you must forgive Sarah. She has yet to learn when to mind her own business. Mortals." He shrugged as if that explained it all. "Yet the rules are the rules, yes?"

"Hey! I didn't—" he cut Sarah's voice off just as he had on the bridge.

"Like I said, she has a few things to learn before the start. Better odds for you I suppose." Jareth bowed, an action Sarah raised her brows at, and gestured for the plum beast to pass them into the glass shielded room. Her Watcher followed on her heels until they were out of sight.

Jareth flicked his wrist to release Sarah's bonds and she immediately crossed her arms.

"I didn't do anything," she growled.

"Doubtful. But it does not matter. You should learn to avoid her at all costs. You are no match for Lady Melina. She is stronger, wiser, and more… _mature._ "

"Mature?! She trod all over me for no good reason." She glared at the pale monarch. "And you were no help at all. I could have handled it better myself."

He scoffed. "Indeed. Well. You shall have your chance it seems. Come, we're being summoned inside." He instinctively placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her and she jumped an inch. Realizing what he'd done, he quickly dropped the arm.

"Right," he cleared his throat, "we better hurry."

They were met at the door by a well-dressed guard and shown through the translucent gate. An unreal sight greeted Sarah as she entered.

The room was strikingly similar to the Roman Coliseums she'd seen copied onto her history books. So much so that she expected a Trojan carriage or a lion to rush from one of the four other glass entrances. Lions, Sarah mused, might be preferable to what did rush in. She could at least predict them to instinctively growl and attack. No such luck with the folk in this bizarre place.

The numerous other beings already inside were milling in colorful groups of silken robes and comfortable tunics. Sarah spotted a clump of unsightly orange linens parading through the gateway across from her own.

"Are all of these peo—I mean beings, here to participate? There must be thousands," Sarah remarked worriedly.

"Just those wearing the colored tunics. The others are Watchers, or more likely, anxious bidders. The mass should disperse once they take their seats."

"Bidders? Hmph. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. This is a 'game' after all. Next there'll be angry brawls in the stands and we'll be pelted with tomatoes…," she grumbled.

"Tomatoes?" He laughed, a highly unnerving sound, and grinned deep. "Peaches perhaps for you. But if you'd prefer I send you tomatoes, so be it."

"Hunh? Send me tomato—" But she was cut off again by an announcer's call.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Watchers and Bidders, please find your places. The Game is about to begin."

"Perfect. Now, don't do anything unwise, Sarah. Just stand still and behave yourself. Don't defy me." Jareth insisted on her playing the obedient mortal.

_Not even if he shoved a hundred peaches down my throat, the bastard. First he tells me nothing, then he mentions bits and pieces which make no sense, and then he assumes I'll just take it calmly as it comes at me? I don't think so._

_I'll show him just how well behaved I can be._

Jareth smirked and glided up the nearest staircase to his seat as she finished her thoughts. Sarah was quickly herded into stadium center with the other apparent contenders and lost herself in the wild mash of energy. There were probably ten others overall, maybe eleven, but the crowd easily felt like hundreds. She tried to memorize some of their features.

The man and woman in the unsightly orange had curly golden-brown hair and the plum woman's blue eyes. Sarah assumed the pair to be siblings. Adjacent them was a girl so petite, she had wrapped a thick brown belt around her rose tunic to keep it from draping far over her legs. She was blonde and Elvin faced, with long pointed ears and sun-kissed skin which shone spectacularly. Farther down the cluster was a trio not hard to miss. They were the most brilliant in appearance, possessing fiery red locks which stood out against their emerald ensembles. The two men and one woman had their backs turned and were chatting amongst themselves, but Sarah could picture their chiseled faces and glittering eyes in her mind. A heavy-set man in wine, a lanky boy in cobalt blue, a freckled couple in a golden yellow, and the plum monstrosity she had met earlier rounded out the assembly. It seemed the entire group was blessed with glowing skin and eyes of varying ocean tones. Sarah felt entirely out of place.

The messenger who guided her down stepped in front of the pack. "Challengers and guests please welcome the Elders, Their Majesties High King Cáel and Queen Amarette."

By the final syllable of the pronouncement, a grand clock had begun to strike in long, even tones. Sarah counted thirteen echoes before a vision shimmered into Coliseum's center. Even without the epic introduction, she could have guessed the titles of the pair. Their robes were draped in rich stones and gold filigree crowns adorned their auburn heads. They were nobility in its highest sense; elegant and proud. The Queen smiled warmly in Sarah's direction and she squirmed a bit in her gaze.

Her feelings of inadequacy were becoming far too common.

The King moved to speak first, spreading his arms wide. "Greetings loyal subjects of the Underground and welcome to the start of another Game. Before the Preliminaries commence, let me first thank you for your patience in this matter." A few crowd members whispered to themselves and he continued, slightly louder, "We have all had time to acknowledge Lord Bertram's peculiar passing. It is time to choose his successor and repair the bonds which have weakened our once glorious lands." He gestured to his wife.

"Competitors, take your places!"

The mass scattered across the floor as each claimed a pocket of the room. A few stretched, others yawned, and the heavy-set fellow starting cracking his knuckles in a sickening fashion. Each had their own way of preparing for the start. Sarah's was to stare blankly at the elders.

_Now what?_

"Let The Game begin!"

In an instant, Sarah was illuminated by one of twelve grand spotlights. She watched rapt as the petite girl to her left closed her eyes in concentration and began to glow a vibrant gold. An unnatural wind picked up in the chamber, gusting around her person, and ruffling her silky layers. Dragging her glance from the sight, Sarah saw that each of the other challengers was in a similar glowing trance. Some were brighter than the rest while others were chanting softly and seemed to be hovering in place. Others still were beginning to wander through the grounds, colorful ribbons of light trailing in their wake.

Sarah stood spellbound on the spot, drinking in the luminous mirage. She was unaware of the figure behind her until she felt a shove against her back.

"Watch it, _mortal._ I don't want your vile smell all over my robes." The plum woman sneered in Sarah's face. The shower of spit sent Sarah reeling.

_That's it. That bitch is going down._

Sarah clenched her muscles taut and spun to face the beast called Melina. She was furious and confused, a dangerous combination for any being, and wished that she could do something, _anything,_ to put that ugly plum in her place.

Something warm tickled Sarah's ribs.

Without warning, an invisible force tossed Melina across the floor. She slid nearly thirty feet from Sarah before jumping, wild and startled, to her feet. Her ocean eyes bulged round.

"How…? HOW DARE YOU THROW ME!" an unpleasant screech echoed through the arena. If the sudden movement hadn't captured the crowd's attention, the piercing shriek certainly did.

Sarah stood speechless. Someone was clearly helping her even the score. She made a note to pay close attention to the crowd, and perhaps the petite girl in rose nearby. She focused her attention back on the screaming plum as the spectators hurried closer.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! NO RIGHT AT ALL!"

_She thinks I did that?_

Sarah threw her hands up in aggravation. "I don't know what you're talking about. There's no way I could throw you across a room when I didn't even move!"

"That's enough Sarah. I believe your round is over."

Immersed in her standoff with the vile plum, she failed to notice a warm presence sidle up beside her. A familiar scent of burning sandalwood invaded her senses and she lost herself for a brief moment in the magic. Until she realized why the scent was so recognizable and pulled away from the monarch.

"Leave Lady Melina be and stop behaving like a child."

"You actually think that was me?" Sarah was growing more and more confused.

"Jareth, control your charge or I'll do it for you. You know the rules almost better than I in this matter. She is finished here. Take her back to wait for the second stage." The High King's command warranted no argument.

"Of course, Cáel. It will not happen again." He edged towards Sarah once more, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to his chest. In an instant, they faded from the chaos.

The pair reappeared in Jareth's tattered throne room a second later, completely oblivious to the Coliseum's current bidding frenzy.

"You certainly have a knack for trouble, don't you?" He was still holding onto her waist and her heart unconsciously raced with the close contact. "Still disobeying my orders at every turn. You may have severely jeopardized your chances, you know."

He clicked his tongue in disapproval and unexpectedly released her. Calling a crystal to his palm, he spoke into its depths.

"Sir Didymus, Toffee. Throne room. _Now._ "

The first name caught Sarah's attention and she anxiously awaited a second glance of her old friend. She was not disappointed. The beast trotted in the throne room half a minute later and knelt as best a fox could before the King. The goblin girl followed close behind him.

"Didymus, take Sarah back to her room while I figure out what to do about her outburst. Ensure she stays _in_ the room this time. I will fetch her in an hour to bring her to the second stage." He shooed him off and ran a glove through his mangy locks. "Go."

"Yes, sire. Right away."

"Come M'lady, we best be going." He pawed in front of her out the doorway and she followed him down the hall. Jareth waited until they were out of earshot before he gave his second set of commands.

"Get Sarah something fresh to eat. Make sure you mix in another dose of strengthener and that she eats the entire meal. Is that understood, Toffee?"

"Of course, sire. Every bite eaten."

She too hurried off down the hall and Jareth was left to reflect in peace.

_I knew you had it in you, Sarah, but that was a bit more spectacular than I was expecting. Let's hope it at least caught you the necessary attention from the bidders. Your chances rest partly in their hands._

He moved to look out at the Labyrinth below him. Even though less than a day had passed since Sarah's arrival, the maze was quickly reverting to its original form. It was just as he suspected. She had taken too large a piece of the Underground with her when she left.

Jareth thought of his latest travel maneuver and berated himself for blatantly relishing her close contact.

And that piece included part of his heart.


	8. Into the Labyrinth

Sarah chased Sir Didymus through the castle, surprised that his scrawny legs were pulling father and farther ahead.

"Sir Didymus, slow down! I can't keep up with you." She huffed out of breath. "Wait up!"

He altered his pace accordingly and craned his good eye at Sarah. "My apologies milady, but we hast been waiting some time for thee."

She caught his bedraggled form as they rounded a chipped column and paused before a recognizable wooden door. Humming with anticipation, the barrier fell open. Sir Didymus ushered Sarah inside and gingerly pulled the door tight. By the time he turned back to his charge, she had sat herself intently on the edge of the bed. The lost stare flitting across her features caught his alarm.

"Milady? Be thou'st well?"

She was staring at the tapestry laden walls, her pose matching the one from earlier that same morning prior to her ill-fated escape attempt. Post-Preliminary Sarah, however, had no plans of escape. None that would work in any case. Her best shot out of this predicament was answers. And not ones from a dodgy Goblin King. She forced some life into her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Sir Didymus. I'm just so…. so confused. I know I haven't been the greatest friend lately but, I just don't know what to do." She idly picked at the embroidery on the comforter.

"Worry not fair maiden. Times have been difficult for us all." He smiled kindly up at her.

She breathed a sigh of relief at his understanding and continued her train of thought. "I thought it would a quick thing; enter the Labyrinth, shrug off a few fireys, cross the Bog…," she trailed off, a stranger to her own voice. "Not these 'stages' and _bids_. What kind of game is this, really?"

Didymus tried to stall. "Ahh…well…"

"I know you understand this all, can you tell me anything?" She pleaded for a response. "Please, I don't stand a chance with these Fae and their magic!"

The pronouncement brought a rush of Preliminary memories to the forefront of Sarah's mind, and her hands frantically twisted on her lap. The eerie calm of the room was doing nothing to assuage her concerns.

Sensing her agony, Sir Didymus took pity on his raven-haired friend. He sighed deeply. "I wish I could help thee, truly I do. Alas, I am but His Majesties advisor. Only your Watcher can assist thee with this task."

"Damn!"

Her unexpected outburst caused the poor knight to jolt, and he stared at her oddly.

"Well that's it then. I'm in deep shit. Jareth's been no help at all." She let herself fall backwards onto the mattress and plastered her face with an unsuspecting pillow.

"His Majesty is thy Watcher?"

She tried to respond intelligently but all her fabric covered mouth could emit was a muffled affirmation. Pushing the cushion off, she forced herself back into a sitting position. "And he's only confused me more with his shifty answers. Some help he is. He clearly doesn't care that I don't stand a chance in this game. He just wants to torture me into running the Labyrinth again. Can you believe he blames me for why everything is falling apart?" She waited a second before muttering something profane.

Sir Didymus pretended to have missed the unflattering remark, but couldn't keep his face as stoically blank as he had hoped.

"Milady, I mean no offense, but is it perhaps possible that thou'st be incorrect in presumption?"

She instantly looked over at him in disbelief. " _What_? You actually think he's been _helpful_?"

"I hath said nothing of the sort, fair maiden. I suggest only that you may have made premature assumptions about His Majesty."

She toyed with the idea of a second outburst, but her innate curiously won out. "Alright, I'll bite. Explain why _I've_ made 'premature assumptions'."

Didymus dropped his gaze to the floor to steady his thoughts, and slowly echoed back. "Premature assumptions about… intentions of His Majesty."

Sarah didn't immediately respond; she could not seem to gauge what Didymus knew about Jareth's intentions from the short utterance.

"And? You know what these mysterious intentions are?" She paused. "Care to enlighten a friend?"

At this, Didymus remained silent and pulled his eyes back to the floor. Hearing her groan in exhaustion, he tried an apology.

"Please do not think badly of me, fair maiden, but 'tis not my place. I hath said all I can."

A short time later, Toffee reappeared, laden with a bowl of steaming soup, a thick piece of brown bread, and another mug of the same spiced cider. She ushered Sarah towards the food with enthusiasm. This time however, Sarah, exhausted from confusion, did not fight her.

A large sip of the cider proved it to be deliciously sweet, spiced with cinnamon and vanilla, and what seemed to be honeyed anise. The warm liquid instantly brought light back into her eyes, and Toffee and Sir Didymus breathed an obvious sigh of relief.

"This is actually quite good. Thank you, Toffee." The goblin girl blushed a deeper gray.

The thought that it was probably laced with magic danced through Sarah's head, but she ignored it. She would have to eat sometime, and at least this food was fresh. And recognizable. She did not remember much more than leaves and bugs in the Labyrinth and did not particularly want to eat the friendly blue worm. _Although, he did claim to have tea…._

"No problem, miss. Just doing what I's told."

Sarah harrumphed in realization. _Yep, definitely spiked then._

The trio spent the next half hour catching up; Toffee mostly nodding along with Didymus' tales of heroics near the bog, and oft amusing outbursts on the cowardice of Ambrosius. Sarah, even aware of their grandeur, loved every minute of it.

"As charming as this is, we do have more important places to be. Didymus, Toffee, leave us."

Until then.

Sarah eyed the king warily, now aware that he had some other motive up his billowing sleeve. _Now to just figure out what…_

"Come, come, Sarah, stop lounging around and get over here." He twitched a finger at her and she involuntarily shuttled to her feet, inches from the monarch. "Time to go."

Sarah clenched her face tight, and they were gone.

In an instant, Sarah found herself alone on a sandy path and standing before a large gate. Turning to gauge her surroundings, she realized she was on an outskirt of the Labyrinth she had not seen during her last run. Her competitors, or even Jareth, were nowhere to be found.

She tried pushing on the gate.

_ Not yet. _

Sarah jumped back in fear as a voice echoed through her head. _What? Who was that?_ Silence. _Tell me now!_

_ Not yet. _

"Competitors, please take your places. Before the stage begins and your tokens are delivered, I, and my wife Amarette would like to wish each and every one of you luck. Most of you will need it. I look forward to greeting the sole heir in the near future. For the rest of you, may Orion grant you a place in the heavens."

_Oh. Shit. Something tells me that the losers aren't just wandering around here…_

As an awkwardly sewn parcel materialized before her, the High King's voice boomed above once more. "And now, into the Labyrinth!"

Sarah barely had the chance to scoop up the parcel by its strap before she was shoved forward through the opening gates and into a pebbled path.

"Ompf." She landed hard. "Thanks a lot, your Majesty…"

After licking the rocks from her tunic, she slung the pack on her arm onto her shoulder and peeked in its pockets. A peculiar watch with eleven colored partitions, a long golden arrow complete with glittering twine, a pair of tawny leather gloves and…a tomato?

_Jareth…_

Someone chuckled in Sarah's head, and she again spun, startled, to find the owner of the silky voice.

_Who. Is. In. My. Head? Is that you, Goblin King?_ She tested a direct thought.

_ Perhaps. _

_Wonderful…Now would you get the hell out?!_

_ Sarah, Sarah, Sarah…all you had to do was ask.  _

The light tickle in the front of her head vanished, and Sarah found her self alone; this time in body and in mind. Fastening the watch to her wrist, she examined the colored partitions with curiosity. _Orange, wine, emerald, plum…Wait. Plum? One partition for each competitor? Whatever for…? And where was her forest green shade? This just keeps getting stranger and stranger._

"Well feet, here we go again."

The gate slammed shut behind her.

* * *

High up in Elder Tower, a group huddled around a glass-top table, glued to the sight of the Labyrinth reflected in its depths. As they watched, a row of crumbled walls tightly glued themselves together as if they had never cracked at all.

"I realize that since all the heirs are running, the Underground was bound to start reverting to its glory, but this is unusually sudden…and localized…," the High King trailed off and issued a questioning glance at his companions.

A few nods and whispers brought reply from the queen. "Never have I seen lands, particularly within the Goblin Realm, rebuild so quickly." She sought the reigning monarch's eyes to gauge his reaction. "Jareth. Any thoughts on the progress?"

"I am as pleasantly surprised as you both, your Majesties." His face was the picture of innocence, but Cáel, having been friends with him for nearly four centuries, saw through the mask.

"Well then. Watchers, I trust you know your roles. I would suggest rejoining the bidders and guests in the Grand Hall. The Game Map should already be there." The Watchers gradually shuffled out of the room, until only three occupants remained.

"You do know more than you claim, don't you? Jareth?"

The Goblin King frowned. "It should no longer be a concern. The Game has begun and all the heirs are running. Nothing more needs to be explained."

"And if I order you to explain your actions?"

"I would of course do so. But out of duty alone." Jareth's tone had become ornery.

Cáel sighed. "Go then. I'll let this pass for now. Be forewarned that just because we are friends does not mean this is the last time we will speak on this".

Jareth bowed low and vanished with a metallic flash, clearly in a hurry to reach the viewing.

"He's hiding something, Amarette. Something about that mortal girl. First, he requests Watcher duties, something he's never done before and then this rapid regeneration…".

Amarette furrowed her brow, also deep in thought. It had to be more than simple lust for the girl. Although it would explain the duties, it left the question of the Labyrinth's regeneration completely unanswered.

"What exactly do we know about his first encounter with the girl, dear?"

Cáel shrugged. "Not much. He wasn't exactly forthcoming about the whole debacle…why? Do you think therein lies the answer?"

"It's possible."

"Right. Well, it's a place to start. Malik!" The guard stepped into the room.

"Yes, sire."

"I have an order for you. Find Eran of Elder Tower, and send him here immediately. I have an errand I need him to do."

Malik nodded and turned to leave.

"…and Malik. I trust you to keep this private."

"Of course, your Majesty." And he was gone.

The High King turned back to greet his wife's questioning glance. "If something unorthodox happened during those thirteen hours, I _will_ find out about it."

Amarette smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less, dear."

Jareth had quickly teleported to the Grand Hall, per his orders, but did not jostle for a prime viewing spot like the rest of the spectators. Anything important he could learn straight from his charge.

"'Ey! Step aside ogre, I can't see the mortal girl!"

Jareth snapped his eyes to the voice, anxious to hear that his Sarah had garnered some attention. Although he had sent the tomato and gloves, another bidder had already put his coins on Sarah for her to have received a golden arrow. It was a welcome relief that her outburst, prodded by both himself and Lady Melina, had indeed helped Sarah.

"Thirty gold coins on that Elvin girl, Rhiannon!"

"Are you mad? She's barely five feet tall, she'll never get past the second wall…"

"Eh? I think she's feisty, that one."

Jareth saw his chance to cut in. "Feisty? That petite blond?" The bidders sputtered in protest, but offered no support. "Were either of you here for Preliminaries? I was under the impression that the Lady Sarah had already been dubbed quite 'feisty' as you put it."

"'Course! We saw her, just never been a mortal victor yet. Just not possible, feisty or not," the larger fellow replied.

Jareth smirked, and lowered his voice. "And there certainly won't be one this Game either". The bidders laughed heartily. "But I'd still watch Lady Sarah, if I were you."

"Eh? Right. Thanks for the advice…Hey, Ternic, what about Lady Melina…?"

_Idiots._

Taking a seat in the section reserved for Watchers, Jareth closed his eyes and carefully sought out his connection to the girl. He was going to have to pay close attention for his gamble to pay off.

He suddenly frowned. It seemed the first test was already upon them.


	9. Reflection of Sin

Sarah had been roaming through the same pebbled paths for a good thirty minutes without any sign that she was competing for a kingdom, let alone that life even _existed_ in the Labyrinth.

The walls, although littered with cracks and gaps, were devoid of eye-moss, fungi or any other vegetation expected on a feature as old as she presumed the Labyrinth was. It was if the great maze had died; withering away under the weight of the wind. The rare straining gust was the only thing which convinced her she was still alive and not trapped in a sandy crypt.

This silence, in fact, scared her most of all. There were times before where she'd be alone in the Labyrinth; particularly when she charged down what had seemed to be a straight path upon entry. But never had she felt so detached from her surroundings. Even then there had been glittering branches and moss.

She leaned her palm against a bolt shaped crack. The Labyrinth simply seemed _empty_ ; like a great piece of its being had been ripped away.

Partly because of this, and for reasons she did not yet know, Sarah's ears caught the sound of running water a good deal sooner than any human should have. Although she could not yet see the source through the sandy walls she was still sandwiched between, she did glimpse what seemed to be an opening some ways ahead.

Pushing forcefully off the wall, she quickened her pace with relief. The Labyrinth, albeit directionally straightforward, was unpleasantly muggy. The student in Sarah unconsciously attributed it to the lack of plants and uncommonly low Carbon Dioxide levels. With an un-ladylike snort, she shook the academia from her head and centered her attention on finding the sound.

As she raced onward, the bolt shaped fissure smoothly sealed within the wall, along with the rest of the breaks along the route she'd already passed. Sarah didn't notice, deep in hope that the running water was not an auditory mirage.

In that respect, she was not disappointed.

Leaving the pebbled pathway for a peculiar mix of mauve weeds and wild grasses, the brunette came across a forgotten oasis. The place, perhaps no larger than her childhood bedroom, boasted a thrilling combination of flora—mostly unique to Sarah's eyes—and a picturesque stream. Either end of the flow disappeared deep into the soil casting the illusion that the stream flowed from nothing. The entire area had an unnatural air about it, but the magicked haze also went unnoticed by the girl.

Something in the shining water beckoned.

Rushing to water's edge, she cradled a palmful and splashed her face to clear the grime from a day without bathing.

"Ahhh….." Sarah sighed in relief, and glanced back to the water; her broken reflection rippling in the current. She eagerly moved to cup a second palm full.

"Beautiful, aren't I?"

The water trickled through Sarah's hands as she tensed, simultaneously blanking the grin from her face. The clearing was empty when she stumbled upon it, she thought wildly. No one should be here.

Sarah stared at the water and watched her reflection smile back at her.

Sarah Williams wasn't smiling.

"Ah!" The girl shot out the same syllable with alarm, her heart pounding heavy against her chest.

The reflection grinned wider still, lines forming at the corners of its familiar eyes. "Please do not be distressed; you have nothing to fear. Sit and rest by my side and drink for as long as you thirst. It has been so long since I've had company."

Sarah found it unusually disturbing to speak to herself, but found her voice. "Oh…I think I'll just go…"

But she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the stream.

A voice deep inside chanted that she should avoid the clearly enchanted oasis and run while she still could. But Sarah couldn't move a muscle. Her knees had unwillingly glued themselves to the wild grasses.

The reflection eagerly jumped on the frozen girl. "Such a beautiful face; one even more beautiful than setting sun. Please, stay and keep me company. I could watch you forever."

Sarah blushed at her reflection's compliments, and leaned closer, increasingly compelled by the face before her. She couldn't explain the need and suddenly, did not want to. All she knew was the stream.

_I suppose a little longer wouldn't hurt. The stream is beautiful…_

In silence, the magicked haze closed in tighter around the scene.

"Yes, that's right. Stay and rest for a while. Watch the calming flow; drink to quench your thirst." As the stream cooed its plea, the girl let her pack slip from her shoulder. "Yess, that's good. Tell me about yourself. Tell me e _verything._ "

Sarah's heart hummed excitedly. Nobody had ever wanted to hear her whole life story; not even Kate. Settling deeper into the bank, she smiled in girlish delight.

"Where would you like me to start?"

"Your name, you must tell me your name!"

"Oh, it's Sarah. Sarah Williams."

"Sarah, _Sarah_ …" the reflection's voice had turned thick and sensual, a silky caress across Sarah's mind. "Such a lovely name for such a lovely face…tell me, where ever did you find it?"

"It was my grandmother's name, on my mother's side. She died a few years after I was born."

"How terrible dear, that must have been just _awful."_

Sarah's self-centered thoughts caused her to miss the forced lilt in the stream's response, and she nodded. She quickly continued her autobiography, exaggerating with detail the misfortunes of her childhood and teenage years. Soon, the reflection didn't need to plead a question for the girl to answer; Sarah had settled into a deep circle of storytelling.

The magicked haze around the oasis grew dense and closed in tighter still, bewitching the eyes of the brunette a copper red. The stream, in turn, began swallowing the dye of falling night.

"And even after all I went through, I still became a brilliant actress." The girl sniffed. "I've won the lead in the last five plays I've auditioned for. All glowing reviews, of course." Sarah boasted on, oblivious to the shifting patterns around and within her.

The magical currents in the dark haze had blackened the once clear stream as if it were the heaviest wine. The girl's true reflection, should Sarah have been able to see it, would have blended in with the creatures of the Underworld; a face of glowing eyes and rising shadows. Without a care, the stream was trapping the girl; cursing her body to match that of the reflection's demon. If she didn't break the spell soon, there would be no escape.

"Of course _Sarah_ , you are _perfect._ " The expression in the stream was now dark and calculating. "You must be parched after that tale. Come, drink from my stream…drink, _drink!_ "

Sarah obeyed the cold command without conscience, cupping a palm full of now molten black water, and holding it before her lips. Still relaying her accomplishments, she paid the sickly liquid no concerned glance. "But I simply can't stay Off-Broadway forever, can I?"

She closed her eyes and pursed her lips, inching the dark, now steaming liquid closer.

" _Yessss,_ " the reflection hissed, its face morphing grotesquely. "Why not stay forever… _here_ forever. It's not long at all…"

Sarah paused momentarily. _'Forever, not long at all'. Why does that sound so familiar?_

" _It's only forever, not long at all…"_ The calming melody drifted through Sarah's head, leading her to a single thought.

_Jareth._

An ardent sigh of relief echoed through the entranced girl's mind.

_Leave the clearing, Sarah. Without drinking from the stream, leave now._

_What…? But my reflection is so beautiful…_

_Don't be ridiculous, girl. The image should be nothing special. I'm certain its pales in comparison to the reflections of the Fae who found it before you._

"What are you waiting for, drink it! Drink it and you'll be _mine!"_ The reflection was morphing before Sarah's eyes.

"Nothing special…?" A flicker of Sarah's grey eyes pierced through red fog and she felt the stirrings of a warm tickle. The smoking ooze stung her palms while she furrowed her brow to think. In doing so, the surge vanished as quickly as it had risen.

_Not enough…_

"W-hat?"

_Stop acting like a child. I knew I was right about you. Lady Melina is far stronger, wiser, and infinitely more mature. She's probably won The Game already…_

"Won…The Game…already?"

Something in Sarah snapped, and the gleaming shine of her silver eyes burst through the spell. Instantly, she saw the true reflection on the water; a terrifying horned shadow with jagged teeth and gleaming eyes. It was if Sarah's nightmares about the Labyrinth had become a reality, but she had no way to escape. She was already awake.

She blindly flung herself back towards land.

"Stay AWAY!" Sarah waved her hands wildly before her, a desperate attempt to keep the demon at bay. She yearned for the cryptic silence of the Labyrinth walls, churning the wish over and over in her head. "I wish, I wish…"

She was so close. Her chest hummed a rich orchestra of sound, and her hands danced in a golden glow as she watched the shadow rise from the water.

"STAY AWAY!"

Sarah's world exploded.

The magicked haze of the oasis ruptured in a violent prism of light, sending fiery sparks showering down upon the girl. Melting into the background, the stream and flora cried in agony, a scraping darkness against Sarah's melodious golden wave. The dark emptiness crashed and fought in vain until it dissolved fully into the sand some minutes later.

Sarah collapsed in exhaustion over her pack. As she succumbed to the light, she thought of the beautiful face whose echoes had saved her. With a sigh of ecstasy, she whispered a single word to the wind.

"Jareth…"

* * *

The Grand Hall burst into uproar.

"Unbelievable! Did you see..?"

"Course I did! Vanished the whole enchantment, she did, right into the…"

"Sand! Turned the spell to sand!"

"Who did?" A newcomer fought for a view of the charmed map.

"The MORTAL you half-wit!"

Jareth couldn't keep the Cheshire grin off his face as he opened his eyes in pleasure. _Brilliant_ , he thought, _I couldn't have done it better myself._ _My Sarah…_

Leaning back against his headrest, he regarded the squabble below him anxiously. He had a feeling he'd soon be busy here in the Grand Hall. Very busy.

"40 gold coins on Lady Sarah, and me best goat!" A rounded dwarf started the second round of bidding on the crowded floor. Others threw in their offers excitedly.

"Your Majesty!" An eager Elvin lad already prodded one of the Goblin King legs. "Please send Lady Sarah this token of support."

Jareth fingered the proffered gift and laughed, a vibrant rumbling sound, before shooing the boy away with his wrist to make room for other well-wishers. As a crowd fought to hand the Goblin King their favors, the king magicked the eager lad's gift to Sarah's charmed shoulder bag. She'd be in for a sure surprise when she opened it.

"I always thought she'd win. Didn't I tell ya, Terrence?" The large obnoxious Fae prodded his companion, yelling high over the chaos.

"I don't remember that…" The being in question scratched a boil on his cheek.

"Well, I did. Lady Sarah'll know right away, she will. When she gets my token o'course." He brandished a sapphire threaded kerchief at the ogre. "She'll remember me when she's Queen, you wait an' see. She'll be _real_ friendly." The immature Fae grinned, a wanting glint in his dark eyes.

Jareth overheard the crude remark and narrowed his lips. _Orion's belt. Now I have to ensure Sarah doesn't get too much attention. Nothing is ever easy._

If there was one thing worse than the demon Sarah had just banished, it was a jealous Goblin King. And an impatient, twice-rejected, arrogant and jealous Goblin King was not to be trifled with under any circumstances.

He almost felt sorry for the bidding fans.

Almost.

"Here ya go, your Majesty. For your Lady Sarah from Cromley Higgins, that's two g's; H-i-g-g…"

Jareth snatched the sapphire token in disdain. "Yes, yes, I'll make sure she gets it. Off with you."

He collected nearly three dozen kerchiefs of varied design before he could offer the reasonable excuse that any more tokens would slow the Lady Sarah down. The crowd backed off after that statement, probably more because of the glare in the monarch's eyes than his pronouncement, but didn't return to The Game Map.

"Well, _go."_

Like a pack of goblins, the gathering tumbled back to the main floor, tripping over stairs and seats as if they were invisible. It amazed Jareth that the most enthusiastic bidders of The Game came from the lowest of origins; the ruckus Fae of the Outskirts included. It couldn't he helped he supposed.

He closed his eyes to again check on his Sarah.

It wasn't like _they_ had anything better to do.

* * *

"What's the count after the first wall, dear? I saw the emerald nymph fall, Lady Elinor I believe, but was distracted by that mortal girl…"

"Nine, Amarette. Nine competitors still left."

"Pride, was it? The Labyrinth always likes to start with a challenge," she offered, ruffling a hand back through her auburn locks. "It certainly makes for an interesting Game."

"That it does…Ah! Eran my boy, come in, come in. Sorry to keep you waiting."

The Fae by the door entered the High King's chamber, stopping to bow shakily a few feet from the dais. He was mildly concerned; being called before the High King was a regular occurrence, but not within the monarch's personal rooms. At the motion of his liege, he straightened.

"How can I be of service, High King?"

"Before I begin, I would like your word that you will follow my orders, no matter how peculiar, without question. It of course goes without saying that this is a serious and _private_ matter." He raised one brow. "Is this understood, Eran?"

"Of course, sire. You have my promise."

"Right. I need you to run an errand for me…" Eran began nodding his head in response. "…in the Goblin Kingdom. Specifically, I need you to find Jareth's personal library."

Eran froze mid-nod. "Sire?"

"Somewhere in that library of his are the records of the runners of his Labyrinth. I need you to indiscreetly note the events of one mortal. One Sarah Williams; your former charge."

The High King leaned back into his seat. "I don't care how you get the information—whether you borrow the book and bring it here or simply copy it in his library—but nobody, especially Jareth, must find out about it."

Eran thought he heard the High King follow the command with a muffled threat of magical imprisonment, and gulped automatically. This certainly was a serious task. He had no doubt that if he were to fail, he'd be royally punished; twice literally _and_ figuratively. Even though neither king dared be crossed by anyone, since the Goblin King already seemed to be out for his head, Eran couldn't think of a worse position to be in at the moment. He was certain this couldn't end well.

"I…understand, High King. I will do my best."

"See that you do, Eran. You've been an irreplaceable attendant and I'd hate to lose you."

Following the monarch's flick of his hand, Eran bowed again and backed out the door. There was no time to waste. The sooner he found that book, the sooner this nightmare would be over.

"Was there really a need to scare the boy so much, dear? You could always just order Jareth to explain what happened." The High Queen regarded her husband questioningly.

"If Eran fails, I have no doubt that will be my next course of action. But this way, I can be sure to get the whole story. Orion knows what Jareth is hiding. He's certain to try and dance around the important notes should I confront him directly."

Cáel rose, stretched his silk clad arms high above his head, and stepped from the dais. He was usually a very trusting king, but recent events had given him pause. He needed to know the full extent of the problem for the sake of the Underground.

Thinking of one resident in particular, he sighed. There was more than one reason he stayed close to the Goblin King; the haughty monarch always had something up his lacy sleeves. Better to stick close and have Jareth offer it up willingly than go through what he was doing now. No matter what his wife insinuated, he truly disliked spying.

And he especially detested spying on his former Game charge.


	10. Cottage of Greed

Sarah Williams knew she was dreaming The Dream. The beginning was always the same.

_She was in a rich ballroom of faceless dancers and jeweled silks. Candelabras bathed the room in an unnaturally warm glow._

She had been here so many times, swayed through the nameless mass until the dark shadows came and enveloped the magic. And yet, dream Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that something was different.

_The dancers spun through the hall in their usual blissful ignorance, unaware of the timely tragedy which always befell them. Anytime now, thought dream Sarah fearfully. Soon, those shadows will come._

_But the otherworldly beings danced on as a chord struck eleven times. Never had the mass lasted this long._

_Deeply relieved, she shifted her sight from the brass clock to the crowd. Almost instantly, she was gripped by an inexplicable urge to find someone._

_She sought; winding her way through the sea of fabric. Someone. She had to find someone. Her lungs clenched in desperation. She needed someone. Sarah let her instincts guide her._

_Tittering laughs echoed around her as she pushed and weaved through the crowd. Everyone was watching. Sarah didn't care; her heart kept pounding with need for this unknown being._

_A flash of pale gold in front quickened Sarah's pulse. She was becoming sick with anticipation._

_There. There he was._

_Sarah's stomach jumped towards her throat, twisting into warm knots. She stopped pushing through the crowd; looking down to calm her churning insides. But the sight of his toned calves prowling closer was making her weak. Making her breathless._

_She greedily gasped for air but the shimmering corset of her gown was fighting her attempt at steady breathing._

_Two quick intakes._

_He was still coming closer, black leather boots placed deliberately one in front of the other._

_Three quick breaths._

_Higher still her eyes rose; midnight breeches painted onto defined legs, white silk poet shirt underneath a crimson jeweled jacket, and the space in between…Sarah's heart was pressing uncomfortably into her chest.._

_He was here._

_She was near faint, spellbound by the candlelit temptation not five feet before her. Thin lips, mesmerizing eyes in cool and warm tones, shimmering alabaster skin and that untamed, golden hair. The cold angles of his face captured the amber light like moths to a flame, unable to resist the sight. He was physically comparable to the men from her world, but too wild to be one._

_He was beautiful._

_Dream Sarah had yet to register why she knew this figure. It didn't matter._

_She reached for the shining enticement, her rosy lips parted and eyes clouded by dark desire. She wanted him, quivering with need as she leaned for his touch. She was close enough to drink in his spicy scent, a mix of musk and sandalwood._

_He was intoxicating._

_Something like recognition clicked as she reached to pull his face closer, to feel those pliable lips caress her own, to have him whisper back against her throat. Sarah was on fire, skin burning under his flaming eyes._

' _Jareth…'_

An unexpected burning itch on her wrist roused Sarah with a start, her hand outstretched in the air. Her whole body was shaking with anticipation; with a need unfilled. She straightened, startled and confused, as her heart stampeded inside her.

"W-hat the hell," Sarah yelled at the empty Labyrinth. "I repeat, just what the hell was that?!"

No response.

Sarah was beyond perturbed. She was terrified. She'd dreamed about the Labyrinth before—indeed recently it was an almost nightly occurrence—but this had been different. _Very_ different. She was accustomed to breaking out of the dark dance in search of the winding paths of the Labyrinth, not to seeking out a face at the ball. And not just any face. _His_ face. It was hard to decide which nightmarish scenario was worse.

_Thank God HE hadn't been in my head at the time. I'd have never lived this down._

It just had to be her recent encounters with the Goblin King, she reasoned. She hadn't seen him for five years and now here he was, interfering with her life again. All his ministrations, subconscious conversations included, must have cracked her sanity. She knew he had definitely spelled her with cider… _It has to be that. Please let it be that._

Sarah's mind riled against the alternative. The idea that she actually desired the bastard was preposterous. Subconscious desires included. He was the villain! He stole children for a living! He was conniving, cruel, arrogant, showy… _beautiful._ Sarah balked.

And she hadn't even seen him for five years! _A lot can happen in five years,_ Sarah's traitorous mind whispered back. Sarah frowned, trying to tune out the voice. _I don't need this right now._

A second burning itch on her wrist reminded the girl of what had woken her, and she turned the partitioned watch towards her face nervously. She didn't think it could get much worse, but fate was currently laughing in her face. Who knew what was next.

The watch had changed. Where there had once been eleven gleaming colors, she now found eight. Three angry black streaks covered the sections where three, four, and ten o'clock would have rested.

_The lightest emerald shade, the wine, and the darker orange…_

_Had they given up? Been disqualified? Left The Game?_

… _Died?_

The brunette shook her head angrily, not wanting to believe such a dreadful proposal. But something in her knew it to be true. This Game, sick as it was, was slowly making sense. Twelve competitors, one victor. Twelve went in, one came out. The rest were damned somewhere in between. Sarah wrapped her arms protectively around her middle.

Her emotions had leapt across the board in the past day. Nervous. Frightened. Angry. Frustrated. Proud. Empty. Her head was throbbing, and she sank back to the ground. Something cut into her leg, and she shifted, intent on throwing the offending object as far as she could muster. She reached down and her hand closed around the liquid filled vial she had taken from her holding room. In her dream, she had pushed it halfway out of her pouch.

As if kissed by moonlight, the potion glistened within glass. Sarah fingered the container thoughtfully, debating whether to smash the vial against the wall, or brave a sip. As satisfying as the sound of breaking glass would have been, she was still parched, left unsatisfied by the stream and her ballroom nightmare. She prayed this was one of the aforementioned 'useful' items Eran had hinted at.

She chucked her whirring head back and gulped.

The effect was immediate. The throbbing in her head, heart and limbs vanished, only to be replaced by a soothing caress. As she swallowed, her throat was coated in the cool liquid, calming her thirst and massaging her vocal chords. Sarah moaned in relief. The drink, whatever it was, had worked like the magic it probably was.

Head and heart calmed, the girl considered her position. She was one of nine left. One of nine in a maze of horror and temptation. One of nine fighting demons and who-knows-what-else to stay alive. Dancing in magic.

The thought jarred her memory to the oasis. She _had_ done something unnatural, she was sure of it. Golden light just doesn't shoot from normal human hands. Not sober humans at least.

But what had she done? And how?

It had seemed like magic. Sarah scoffed at the thought. But that was impossible. She didn't have magic. She was just…Sarah. Part-time procrastinating college student, part-time actress, and one-time otherworldly champion. Those hours couldn't have given her paranormal abilities, right? _Right_. _Absolutely, positively no way, no how._

Sarah was only half-convinced. Something had happened, and it looked as magical as it got. One minute she was relaxing in that oasis, then His Royal Arrogance himself starts echoing insults through her head and then 'poof'; her own demon cleaning wave shoots from her hands.

It just didn't make sense. What was she missing? Sarah growled in anger, giving in to the childish urge to pound her fist into the dirt. As she did so, the bottom of her palm shot off a glowing spark.

"Oh!" Her eyebrows rose to her hairline.

Without considering the consequences, the girl slammed her other hand down with equal hostility, anxious to see if a similar glow appeared. It did.

_Anger causes magical sparks?_

After repeating the action with both fists, she was convinced she was onto something. The angrier she became, the brighter the light she shot off. It still didn't explain the oasis however. She'd been angry at having that bastard taunt her in her mind, but was really more frightened of the reflection. _That_ was the emotion she remembered swimming in.

Perhaps all strong emotions triggered the magic. That could only explain it. She'd already conceded that her emotions had been all over the place since she got here. She chalked it up to her acting training; being able to switch extreme feelings at the drop of a hat.

That was one of the reasons this development concerned her.

She had almost accepted the idea that for some odd reason, she was able to do bits of magic. But since she _knew_ she hadn't sent electric sparks at an audience in her world, the ability must be tied the Underground. Her hours in the Labyrinth had done something unnatural to her after all, and coming back to the same world had awakened the gift.

She sighed. It was a lot to take in.

Rising, Sarah slung her bag over her shoulder. She'd dawdled enough as it was. If she was going to win this Game—and stay alive—she had to keep going. At least now she had a little defense. She'd figure out how to use it to her advantage if she needed to. She prided herself on being resourceful.

When the oasis had vanished, a new path had opened in its place. Something was tacked on the side closest to her and she moved to get a better look.

It was a sign. Made of material that looked and felt like animal hide, the piece had been scrawled upon in dark ebony ink.

**Pride cometh before all days, the soul's truest test.**

**Take the warning you have seen, apply it to the rest.**

**One down and six to go, the seven sins in line.**

**Travel downwards for if you do, rivals will you find.**

Six to go. _Six?_ Sarah wasn't sure she could handle _three_ let alone six challenges of the oasis' nature. She had completely finished the vial of healing mead. Considering this, she probably should have rationed a sip at most.

And rivals. So, she wouldn't be alone the entire time after all. She wasn't sure 'safety in numbers' applied in a situation where the goal was to outlast the competitors, but after learning of her new talent, she didn't trust herself to be alone right now. She'd even take _Jareth_ over solitude at this point.

_ How fortunate that I am feeling magnanimous at the moment. _

_You certainly enjoy butting into my thoughts, don't you?_

_Only when I'm invited, my dear._ She could feel him grinning in her mind.

_Oh, really?_ She thought sarcastically, starting down the labeled path. _Then I've got a few more questions for you while you're listening. Where you aware that I can do sporadic bits of magic?_

_ Ah, that. Forgive me; I must have forgotten to mention it earlier.  _

_Must have_ forgotten? _Why you—_

_ Careful now Sarah. You wouldn't want to get too angry. Who knows what damage you could do now that you are aware of the ability. _

_You knew the trigger, didn't you? You started this._ It was more an accusation than a question.

_ Believe what you must. _

_But why? Why bother at all?_

The proceeding pause was so long, Sarah doubted he'd reply at all. She tried again.

_You don't even care—_

_ Do not presume that I would let anyone attempt this Game unprotected. I may be cruel, but not that much so. I do not enjoy watching respectable beings destroyed in my realm— _ _ in my own Labyrinth— no matter what you may think. _

Sarah gulped. She didn't have a response to that. Again, he'd made her feel the size of an ant. How was it that whenever she thought she had the upper hand, he went and turned the world upside down?

_ If you are quite finished accusing me, I'll be so kind as to give you a piece of advice. I know you have two crystals. Now that you've unlocked your magic, they should respond to your touch. In a pinch, center your emotion into one. It should focus your young magic. _

_ Use them wisely. _

Sarah felt his presence slip sharply from her mind and she yelled at the air. "Hey! Wait! I don't know how to do that!" But he was already gone. She frowned. "Great. _J_ _ust_ great."

During her conversation—if one could call it that—she had failed to realize that she'd walked a great distance down the rocky path and had come to a large, vine covered gate. It was the first sign of life since the oasis, and the only one which wasn't enchanted.

She didn't think it was at least.

Pushing open the heavy gate with a creak, she stumbled into the opening and fell onto something small and warm.

"Oh! Excuse me!" Sarah's manners instinctively kicked in.

The warm body looked up and managed a half-smile. "It's alright, I'm perfectly fine. I think we are supposed to gather as it was."

Sarah stepped back to a comfortable distance to speak with the girl. The warm body had been a competitor; the tiny Elvin girl from Preliminaries. Her long blond hair had been spelled back in a braid, but other than that, she appeared untouched. Sarah looked down at herself. She was a mess.

"Oh, yeah, right. Something about rivals lying ahead and whatnot." Sarah offered, following as the girl continued on. "Hey, what's your name by the way?"

"Rosalyn."

"Nice to meet you, even in unfortunate circumstances. I'm Sarah."

"I know." The voice was self-assured.

"What? How?" Sarah stopped in her tracks.

"Everybody knows who you are. You kept us all waiting. Nearly took the Underground with you too." Rosalyn pulled farther ahead, and turned back. "Are you coming or are we going to have to wait for you again?"

Sarah hurried.

The pair soon came to a rounded building, a dome of stones and shells, lying alone in the maze. A smattering of open windows and a sap covered door completed the facade. It was the first time the brunette had seen a structure that resembled a dwelling Underground. Castles and towers just didn't count as 'homey' in Sarah's book. The pair pushed open the door.

The inside was something like a fairy tale cottage. It was astoundingly bright, but an old fashioned fireplace simmered in the back as half-burnt candles glowed unnecessarily in other corners. Tattered, dusty throws covered four low, brown couches all surrounding a concentric woven rug. The cottage was warm and inviting; an unexpected change from the Labyrinth, but just as beckoning as the oasis.

Six figures were already seated on three of the couches and were watching the newcomers casually.

"You made it after all. Never thought you would, mortal that you are." The pitchy voice harrumphed. "But you had to rope in the Elf to help I see." Melina verbally abused both entrants.

Rosalyn ignored the derogatory comment, and sat herself on an open seat. Sarah gave the rude woman in plum her best glare and joined the Elvin girl, mumbling obscene words under her breath. Nobody spoke.

Some ten minutes later, the gangly boy in cobalt blue made his way into the room, and moved towards the fireplace. He looked a great deal worse for wear. Sarah wondered what task he'd just come from.

After he shut the door, it melted seamlessly into the wall, effectively trapping the occupants inside. One by one, the open windows shrank until the room was left to bathe in the weak candlelight and solitary fireplace. The instantaneous change was remarkable. Sarah was concerned; it reminded her a great deal of the experience in the oubliette.

There was a shift in the air. The carpet started glowing, and spiky letters emerged in two straight lines.

**Seven competitors for the seven sins, two will never leave this night.**

**Although free to choose your own fate, with words and wisdom will you fight.**

Sarah didn't get much farther than 'two will never leave this night' before she sprang to her feet in alarm. The homey cottage was a trap, then. It figured. It was an alluring break in the sandy chaos. She groaned, knowing that really nothing ever was what it seemed.

And now they had to decide amongst themselves who went on? Sarah confirmed The Game's insanity.

"Well, _I_ for one am leaving this place." Melina sniffed haughtily. "The rest of you decide to leave whoever you will, but I vote the mortal and her playmate."

Her pronouncement began a chorus of claims, each more boisterous than the last. Sarah just listened to the ruckus. Her brain wasn't functioning well enough to do anything else.

Having a certain Goblin King stuck in her thoughts wasn't helping either.

The being directly across from her, wearing what looked like an orange tunic, pressed that he was the only heir left in his entire kingdom now that his sister had been lost. It would only be right to save his place.

_She must have been the darker orange partition._

Similarly, the two figures to Sarah's left, shaking curls back and forth, argued that they came from the oldest bloodline in the Underground; all the way back to Lord Orion himself. Allowing the end of first bloodline would be, by their accounts, 'the greatest travesty of all'. Sarah scoffed at the claim. Your family relationships only got you so far; her mother Linda was proof.

Melina was still yelling nonsense as the final couple on the couch, apart from Rosalyn and herself, boasted that they were powerful enough to banish the remainder of the contenders to someplace called 'Ceden', if they so chose, and warned the rest not to trifle with them. In their eyes, the test to leave should be based on raw magic, not numbers or bloodlines.

The lanky boy and Rosalyn still hadn't said anything, but if the Elvin girl was any comparison, each possessed a contemplative stare.

_Why weren't they arguing their case?_

There had to be more to this challenge than just professing the need to leave. Nobody was thinking about the bigger picture, or of anything but themselves. Didn't they care two in this room would be dead soon? Why couldn't they rationalize this together? All Sarah saw was personal greed.

_One down and six to go…Seven competitors for seven sins…_

Greed _was_ one of the seven sins _,_ mused Sarah. _So was pride._ That could explain the oasis, and the line of the first riddle. That must be it, decided the girl. The Labyrinth was morphing the seven deadly sins into challenges to test the competitors. Sarah eyed her companions, wondering if anyone else had made the connection.

Since Rosalyn and the cobalt boy were still silent, she assumed they had some clue that this wasn't what it seemed. But how much they knew, she could only guess.

An idea was churning in Sarah's head. In order to break the spell in the 'pride oasis', as she now considered it, she had to stop giving in to the urge to boast. She had needed to stop admiring herself and back away to look at the bigger picture. Only then, and with a little magic, did she escape the enchantment. She needed to apply the same lesson here.

"I'll stay." Her voice was clearer than she expected it to be. She still wasn't sure this would work at all.

She could feel eight pairs of eyes on her in an instant, and she stood to gather her courage.

"I'll stay here while you go." That was as opposite of greedy as Sarah could think of at the moment; sacrificial offering.

"So will I." A light voice to her side jumped in. _Rosalyn,_ thought Sarah nervously. _Now I really hope this was the right choice._

Nobody in the room argued the decisions. Indeed, in the dark Melina looked as happy as a cat drinking cream. It had been her suggestion in the first place.

"Excellent. I knew you both would realize your inferiority." She sniffed again and rose, speaking to the walls of the cottage. "I believe we are done here. The mortal and her pet are staying beyond. You can let the rest of us out now."

On cue, the sap crusted door shimmered into existence. Sarah noticed absently that it had moved to a different spot on the wall.

All at once, the competitors rushed to the door. The couple in yellow, who had been seated on the closest couch, threw open the door first and hurried out. They were followed by Melina, the orange clad man, the springy haired siblings, and somewhat reluctantly, the boy in cobalt blue. He turned back before shutting the door.

"I'll see you both later in The Game." He winked.

So he had figured it out as well, grinned Sarah. She liked him already.

As soon as the door was shut, Sarah's ears shook with a piercing scream. Wild and pained, it sounded as if the intermingled high and low voices were being strangled. Back and forth they tore through her eardrums. It wasn't a normal screech; this was deathly, as if devils were singing praises. And then as suddenly as it started, it was over.

The lights were bright once again in the room, and Sarah looked at her companion questioningly. Seeing her nod hard once, Sarah confirmed that two competitors outside had fallen. If she had to guess The Game's will, it would have been the first two out the door; the couple in yellow. Sarah's watch wrist burned.

Her guess was correct, then.

With a defined 'pop', another door materialized adjacent to the fireplace. Rosalyn moved to open it first and waited for Sarah to join her.

She smirked as they walked out together. "You may be wiser than you look."

Sarah didn't care that it was barely a compliment. She was just glad to be getting out of the creepy cottage.

_Two down, five to go._


	11. Sweet Intentions

Eran was utterly lost.

But it wasn't in regard to his current location.

After leaving Elder Tower on horseback, he'd turned westward towards the Labyrinth and began the trek through the great plains between. He'd traveled this way so many times, shuttling countless tasks between kingdoms. So often, in fact, that he wondered if his parents had known he'd become the High King's 'errand boy' when they'd named him 'Eran'.

No. He knew exactly where he was; just not where he was _going._ He lost himself in his thoughts.

'Somewhere in the Goblin Kingdom' was about as vague a destination as the High King had ever given. Jareth, reclusive as he was, kept watch over a sizable enough area to lose an ocean in; or a great sea at the very least. His extensive duty was one of the reasons he got away with conversing solely with the High King. If he chose to socialize at all, that was.

This locational ambiguity, combined with the High King's unspoken reasons for wanting the runner record for Sarah Williams, made his mission all the more daunting. Eran had seen Cáel anxious before, but not like he had been regarding the Goblin King's library. It was unnerving to know this task was immensely important.

And he had absolutely no idea where to look first.

Within the part of the Labyrinth used for The Game was out of the question; the last thing he needed to do was accidentally enter his name into the process. Furthermore, he was optimistic that Jareth wouldn't keep his personal records in such an ever-changing location. Certainly, he needed to be able to find them at will. The castle was likely, as was the surrounding city where he'd heard most of the goblins lived, but Eran had never actually been past the outer walls of the Labyrinth. The inside was one grand mystery.

He did know that Jareth didn't take kindly to trespassers. When one locks themselves up in a castle with a near impossible maze as the only means in—unless you were the Goblin King himself of course—guests seemed neither expected nor welcome. Eran wondered absently if any Undergrounder not from the Goblin Realm had ever managed, let alone tried, to get through to speak with him face to face. It was unlikely; he hadn't heard of such a conversation.

He had to try though. To get through the maze, that was. Just not the sections allotted to The Game. It was a good thing he'd been a Watcher for even a brief period; he knew generally where not to go in the immense structure. He had to try the unused paths.

_I need to get to the southern gate. That'd be the furthest from The Game._

He hoped the Goblin King was occupied with his charge, and that she would still be competing for some time. This mission wouldn't be quick.

* * *

The Goblin King was indeed at the moment busy with Sarah Williams. Opening his eyes, he slipped silently out of the girl's thoughts. She was certainly full of surprises. She hadn't needed his help at all with the second task. She hadn't needed _any_ help.

His Sarah still had her same inner fire; a combination of ingenuity, bravery, and spunk. She was learning fast too; adapting to the changes taking place within her exceptionally well. He'd been nervous when he'd formed his plan at awakening her—young users could do great damage untrained—but there hadn't been time. He'd needed the quickest emotional response from her. She'd already been angry with him; it was the right move to make. It was the logical choice.

Then why did he have to keep telling himself that?

He'd wanted to comfort her on the bridge, to whisper sweet nothings into her hair and stroke her flawless skin. He'd wanted to trace the outline of her painted lips with his gloved fingers, a hair away from touching her mouth; to have kissed away her worries…

He scowled. It would have never worked that way. Sarah would have rejected his advances a third time and she'd never have fully tapped into the magic he'd given her. Above, it was charming directors and audiences; petty tricks of the eye. He wondered why Sarah never questioned her fortuitous success on stage; particularly when critics called her performances 'magical'. Mortals just never paid attention to reviews. But Underground those unconscious illusions wouldn't have been enough. She needed the whole gift.

He didn't regret his actions after she spoke the words; it was what her dream had been. He couldn't deny her anything.

She may not fear him, love him, or do as he said, but he would always be her slave.

So he'd blanketed her with Labyrinthine magic. _His_ magic.

In hindsight, he should have thought through his gift's consequences. He hadn't counted on his secret to cause so much trouble. It probably wouldn't have been as noticeable if The Game hadn't insisted that Sarah was a rightful challenger. What an oversight on his part. Of _course_ Sarah would be called back down; she was a previous Labyrinth victor and hummed with a powerful immortal magic. Furthermore, it was the very same magic keeping The Game.

Perhaps he'd hoped no unfortunate accidents removed Underground leaders in her prolonged lifetime. The Game took place only so often; three or so times a millennium.

He didn't think fate wasn't on his side.

It was too late to brood over the situation. Sarah was immersed in her test and at least with the magic of The Game itself coursing through her, she was as prepared as time would allow.

One more task, and then he would see her again at the midway point. Even if Sarah rallied against him, the short visit would be heavenly. He settled in to watch the angry squabble on the bidding floor. Apparently some were not pleased with the way challengers were faring.

He didn't care. He was pleased.

* * *

"So, where are we going again?" Sarah arched an eyebrow at her small companion.

"We've just passed the second wall with that last task. Presuming the seven sins represent seven walls, we are currently in the third area."

She shook her head. "No, I got that. I mean, what is the end of this thing? The Goblin King's castle?" Sarah's subconscious prayed that it was. _Stop it!_

"That was what I was led to believe." Rosalyn seemed confident enough.

"And the ones who di—don't make it, that is, they just, disappear? They're gone forever?"

Rosalyn nodded tightly, but didn't turn to face the brunette.

Sarah sighed. "This Game sure brings new meaning to the phrase 'seven deadly sins', doesn't it?"

"If you are just going to badger me with questions, you can go back to running on your own. We aren't required to help each other. It contradicts my intentions, really. Only one will win, and I don't intend to spend my last moments in this Labyrinth." Rosalyn gave the brunette a halfhearted glare and a knowing smirk. It reminded Sarah of _him._

"R-right. S-orry."

"Hm. You are fortunate that I would much rather ensure you are my sole challenger at the final sin than the rest of them. Rightful heirs just aren't who they used to be."

"What? Sole challenger…?"

Rosalyn groaned emphatically. "You truly know nothing about The Game do you?"

Sarah grinned sheepishly and gave her an apologetic shrug.

"Then Melina was right. It was quite a feat for you to have made it past the first test. Didn't your Watcher go through the process?"

"I bet my first Watcher, Eran, would have." Rosalyn's brow furrowed at the comment. "But Jareth's been a dodgy bastard so far. Barely explained his way around a fork in the road."

"The Goblin King is your Watcher?" The Elvin girl couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice as she stared back blankly.

"Why is it that whenever I tell someone that, they all look at me like I've grown three heads? _Yes_. The Goblin King is my Watcher and before you ask, _no_ , I didn't choose him."

Rosalyn was silent for a few seconds. "No." She paused again, pensive. "No, you couldn't have. It doesn't work that way. The Watcher chooses his or her charge. It's a rather important position; usually filled by companions or guardians of the competitor. A semblance of trust and devotion between the two is necessary for the runner to stand a chance at surviving. Communication is also key." Rosalyn stopped, but the scrunched look on her face suggested she was still considering something.

_Well. That 'communication' may explain the subconscious conversations. But Watchers choosing?_

"I didn't know Eran before I was dragged back down here…," she trailed off questioningly.

"Your case is a bit different, I suppose. The High King probably appointed someone whom _he_ trusted as your Watcher. There aren't many challengers who hail from Above." She flexed her fingers, mumbling numbers to herself. "I can only think of one other in my lifetime."

"So what, two of us in 100 years? 200?"

"I should be flattered you think of me as young, but after 890 years, I've become almost immune to compliments." She smiled.

"890…" Sarah gaped. "That's incredible. I can't even imagine what it must feel like to live that long." _I wonder how old he is…?_

_Stop it Sarah. Stop thinking about him!_

"It's too bad you are a rightful heir, then. You may have found out otherwise."

"What?" Sarah was growing tired of the phrase.

So was Rosalyn. "Certainly you've noticed the changes since you've been down here? Preliminaries should have been proof enough." At Sarah's vacant expression, she elaborated. "One cannot stay in this world and not be affected by its magic. Stay here long enough and you'll start to become a part of it."

"But I've only been here a day! Well, not including my first time here. But still, that's two days at the most. For a world controlled by immortality, isn't that a bit fast?"

"Which is one of the reasons why I've decided to keep close to you for the time being." She focused her sapphire eyes on Sarah's with a determined stare. "There's more to you than meets the eye."

Sarah frowned, but didn't argue. She'd let the girl wonder all she wanted. She knew she wouldn't uncover anything.

Sarah didn't even know why was different than the other Aboveground challengers, and the answer was often mockingly accented through her head.

Rosalyn hadn't stopped moving through Sarah's interrogation and had now led the brunette to a crumbling stone bench in an intersection of five paths. They both sat, Rosalyn untying the knot of her parcel and digging around inside aimlessly. "Damn."

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing serious. I was just hoping a bidder would have sent a token by now. I could at least do with some food before we reach the third enchantment." She moved to re-lace the straps.

"Can't you just magic some food?"

Rosalyn arched an eyebrow at the crude terminology. "I could, but personally conjured nourishment never replenishes one's own strength. You are just recycling your own power in another form." She eyed Sarah skeptically. "I don't suppose you know how to conjure food, do you?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, but I've got a tomato if you want it. Never been a big fan of them, really." Sarah pushed her sack towards Rosalyn. "Here, it's in the bigger pocket."

"Feeding the competition now? Definitely more to you than meets the eye…" her own eyes laughed as she opened Sarah's bag. "I believe I'll accept your offer before you change your mi—" She froze mid-grab, an unreadable expression on her face. "I don't believe it."

Before Sarah could repeat her innocuous question word, Rosalyn was pulling a plethora of silken kerchiefs from the bag and tossing them roughly into Sarah's lap. The fabric was beautiful; colors too bright for her world intricately embroidered with shining thread. The squares fluttered in the breeze as they spread across the bench seat.

"You have been carrying quite a bit more than a _tomato_ , Sarah. When in Orion's name did you get all this?"

"I—I don't know."

Rosalyn kept digging through the pack. "Impossible." She pulled her arm out, something round and the color of a sunset secured within her small fist. "Do you have any idea what this is?" Her voice held an air of incredulity again.

"A peach." Sarah clenched her teeth in recognition. " _Another_ peach! How dare he—"

Rosalyn cut her off. "How dare he? I cannot believe you. Do you know how prized peaches are in the Underground? What they signify?"

"Obviously not, since I don't _live_ here, remember?"

"This is not the time to be sarcastic. Peaches are a deeply serious matter. They signify a giver's lifetime intentions for the recipient. Usually, they are tokens of affection or appreciation but sometimes, they can even be proposals."

"Proposals? A piece of fruit?!"

"The peach is not a common fruit here. Something in our soil fights the growth as soon as we try and plant them. Only those of high standing have been able to nurse them to their prime. I've heard it takes a great deal of magic." Rosalyn's voice was light and airy, her mind clearly spinning with considerations.

Sarah was rapt with attention.

"You should be honored. Some powerful bidder must have his eye on you."

"Bidder…?"

"I've just explained that bidders send tokens, haven't I?" The Elvin girl became agitated, tossing the peach on the pile of kerchiefs in Sarah's lap. "The kerchiefs are ones as well. You seem to have attracted a great deal of interest."

Sarah didn't hear the last few comments; she was lost in memories of her first trip through the Labyrinth. Hoggle had given her a peach and he'd said it had come from Jar—

_What had he been playing at? And what was he doing now?_

"Sarah, did you say you'd received one before?" Her look was mildly accusing.

With Rosalyn's sudden change in demeanor, Sarah reconsidered her honesty. She needed to keep the past to herself for the time being if even this gift caused suspicion. Furthermore, she didn't know what the Goblin King wanted yet.

She channeled her inner actress. "Me? No. My dad just receives an obscene amount of holiday fruit baskets. One of the perks of being the boss I guess. I don't eat the fruit; never liked them."

Part of it was true. But peaches had been one of her favorite fruits prior to that spelled bite. Sarah eyed the offensive fruit in her lap sourly. She just hadn't touched one since.

"Very well. Don't eat it then." The Elvin girl jumped to her feet. "You can keep your tomato. I'm leaving."

"Hey, wait! What's up with you all the sudden?"

"If you have to ask, you haven't been listening to what I've said." Rosalyn huffed over her shoulder, picking one of the four hedge lined paths they had yet to travel, and hurriedly taking it. "We should be near the third test."

Sarah followed.

On the bench, a pile of kerchiefs and a single peach covered a fresh engraving for The Game. Unfortunately for the competitors, neither had seen it.

Darkness was falling fast across the Labyrinth. Sarah and Rosalyn had been meandering through a particularly tall section of hedge maze for what seemed like hours, and their weariness was seeping in with the night. They had yet to see anything but miles of thorny brush; trapping them in corners and leading them to numerous dead ends. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the hedge maze where Sarah had met Ludo. She sighed, hoping he was alright.

"We should have come to the next test by now." Rosalyn's airy voice was puzzled. "It's been hours of nothing but hedges."

Sarah turned her wrist so the watch faced upwards. Even at dusk, the bright colors were visible. "No change. Either nobody has gotten there yet, or they have, and all made it past."

"The first is more likely. The Game wouldn't be that easy. In the past, the whole process has lasted a few days at most and there are still seven challengers left."

"Could we have passed it? Moved on to the fourth area?" Sarah was hopeful.

"Not possible. The rules specify that every test must be completed in order to progress. You couldn't miss one if you wished so." She smirked. "And believe me, competitors have tried."

"Figures. The one time I really want—"

Something rustled in the brush to the right, startling Sarah mid-complaint. "What was that?"

Rosalyn didn't respond, but held a tiny finger to her lips in a shushing position. Sarah frowned and tried to steady her pattering heart. The darkness was making her jumpy.

A louder rustling to the left this time. Both girls spun towards the sound, one anxiously waiting its reveal, and one simply anxious. Neither spoke but watched in awe as a white shadow moved over the horizon, shaking hedges as it flowed.

Sarah didn't know what to make of it. Who had ever heard of a white shadow? But she was certain that was what it was. The form was impermanent; a shifting cloud masking the brush. It was larger than the oasis' demon form, but smaller than oasis itself. And it was coming closer.

Sarah did the only thing that came to her mind. She ran. Barely escaping Rosalyn's attempt to grab her, she pounded down the hedge corridor in alarm. Shadows had been a particularly haunting vision of hers recently, black or white, dream or not, and she had no intention of waiting to see what it was.

The wind had joined the shadow's attack now, growling and pushing against the greenery. The whole maze was shaking left to right, back and forth and moaning as if they were being ripped to shreds. The force of the wind was shoving the crying walls into the girl and she swatted blindly at brambles as she ran. A vine bit into the tender skin of her arms and she cringed, the fresh cut bleeding a dark red. She had to get out from the hedges. She needed air.

Sarah kept running.

Crashing into walls and pushing overturned roots aside, she frantically twisted through a darkening hedge maze. There had to be an exit somewhere, or shelter, or _something_ besides the brush. Where were those oubliettes and tunnels when one needed them?

Sarah didn't see the metal barrier before her until she had plowed face first into it. Cursing, she grabbed her throbbing nose and regarded the structure with watering eyes. It was another gate, a silvered antique with two tall swinging doors and identical cupid-like statues on stone platforms. In their chubby hands were matching bows, golden arrows strung but resting against cherubic legs. The metallic weapon looked considerably odd against the stone of the statue, but Sarah shrugged it off as an architectural afterthought. String _would_ have been hard to carve from stone.

Without another thought, she forced open the gate with a rusty yell, threw herself into the opening, and dove under the shelter of a low leaning tree. Breathing heavily, she pulled her knees to her chest in an attempt to disappear into the background. The branches were low enough to cover most of her form from whatever had been chasing her and her heart gratefully reverted to an even tempo. Silence drifted through the air, mingling with a sugary sweet scent that soothed her fears.

Eventually, she must have fallen asleep.

For an indeterminable amount of time, faceless dancers and soft silks filled her dreams.

As did her pining search for Jareth.

* * *

An unsurprisingly frustrated Sarah woke just as the new sun grazed the trunk of her shelter, and she cursed the Labyrinth for sending her the same disturbing longings. The whole scene was somewhat crude, with exaggerated hand signals and the hijacking of the trunk as a punching bag in an effort to distract her from the warmth humming throughout her body. Although pointed, her complaints brought no response from the internally laughing entity.

Suckling her now throbbing fist, she warily placed the surroundings which had saved her from what she believed was the third task; the white shadow.

It was a small orchard of sorts. A dozen or so rows of misshapen fruit trees sat patiently in line, their bounty dangling from leafy bows. Sarah's mouth watered as the smell of ripe pears, plums, apples, cherries, and peaches wafted around her. She hadn't anything since yesterday's soup and bread and the healing mead had long run its course.

It would have been so easy to reach out and grab the velvet plum bobbing before her…

_No Sarah. Hunger good, Underground fruit bad. Hunger good, fruit bad._ Sarah chanted forcefully, trying to convince herself that she didn't want the alluring fruit. But the sugary scent was making it very hard to focus. She needed to leave before she did something stupid.

Like picking a peach.

A bit stiff, she scooted from the makeshift cavern and started towards a large gate across from the cherub guarded one she'd entered last night. She hoped it lead to the fourth stage and vaguely wondered why she hadn't seen a sign detailing the third task. _The first two sins had them…_

"Ohhh my…" An airy voice moaned in ecstasy, breaking Sarah's concentration. " _Delicious…_ You can't leave without tasting one Sarah."

Sarah knew that voice. "Rosalyn? Is that you?"

A pink clothed figure poked her head from behind a gorgeous peach tree, golden juices dripping from her painted lips. "Of course it's me. You shouldn't have run off like that earlier." She took a purposeful bite of the half-eaten fruit in her hand.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't be eating the fruit!"

"Why ever not? The fruit is sweet and we eat it all the time. Don't you?"

"Yes, but Rosalyn, that's a peach!" Sarah was growing frantic. She didn't want her near friend bewitched by magical fruit. Something in the orchard wasn't quite right…

"I _know".._ It came out as a purr. "I've never imagined a fruit could taste like heaven." She finished the first piece, and reached to grab another. "Come on Sarah, this is my third one. You have to try one. If not a peach, a pear or plum!"

"Your third one?" Sarah paused at that. "And you feel fine…? No blackouts? Spinning rooms? Crazy shadows?"

"What a silly question. Crazy shadows…" Her voice faded out as she bit again, tossing a pear she pulled from another tree at Sarah. "Go on. They are all perfectly ripe."

Rosalyn was right; the sage colored delicacy in Sarah's palm was plump and firm, its flowery scent soaking deep into the pores of her skin. She wanted a bite. Oh how badly she wanted a bite…

Something gold glinted in the rising sun, catching Sarah's eye, and she paused to eye the angels atop the stone pillars. The taut bows and arrows pointed at her face reflected a blinding light.

_How odd, I could have sworn the statues had been facing out from the orchard last night._

"Hey Rosalyn, were those statues pointing in when you found this orchard?"

The Elvin girl didn't comment, gluttonously devouring a fourth peach some yards away.

_I'm certain they were outwards last night._

Struggling to prevent the sweet temptation from clouding her senses, Sarah stretched her pear filled hand out from her chest and dropped the fruit. Another glint shifted in her vision.

_And weren't the bows pointed down earlier as well?_

"Rosalyn…I think we should leave. There's something off about those statues."

The small girl threw a plum forcefully at Sarah and the brunette caught it roughly in surprise, releasing violet juices down her arm. She couldn't stop herself from moving to lick the sticky substance from her skin…

Something sharp grazed the skin of her ear and Sarah fell to the ground instinctively.

"Rosalyn, get DOWN!"

A disjointed laugh met the command. "It's no good Sarah; you've already sampled the fruit. Your Game is over." Rosalyn's form was fading, her rosy outline lightening to a milky sheen. "Rosalyn will be pleased; one less competitor for her to outlast."

_Oh no. Ohnonononono. Shit. What did I do?_

The form wasn't Rosalyn anymore, but she recognized it nonetheless.

Sarah screamed.


	12. Shadowy Dealings

Sarah's screams were interwoven with the shape shifter's rising laugh. It was a mangled sound when combined—a high tremor tinged with the demonic howl of tortures unseen. As it rippled through her consciousness, Sarah fell into a silent shaking fit. The sweet juice of the plum burned on her tongue and she spat it out violently, wiping her sleeve to soak up what she hoped was every ounce. Even so, her brow continued to drip with a fresh layer of sweat. She was petrified.

The figure was still laughing. Somewhere between hot and cold, the girl forced her attention at the source of her terror.

The innocent pink facade was of course no more. The few seconds of shock had allowed the shape to form into what seemed an impossible presence; a humanoid of white smoke. Even in her hyper sensitive state, Sarah could make out ten deliberate fingers, two arms and legs, and a head of sorts. There were the two hollow eyes, crooked smirk and rounded ears…The gossamer clouds creating the being shone spectacularly in the sunlight, and the smoky substance seemed to be _swimming_ inside the crude human mirror.

It was unmistakably alive, but not enough so that Sarah knew how to respond. And she was still panicking.

_It's the shadow from the hedges! Oh god oh god oh god. What now, Sarah? What now! ThinkthinkthinkTHINK!_

"It's no use you know. You've failed The Game already. One drop is all it takes." The voice was still tinged with mirth as it came closer, eying the trees instead of the girl. "Now what to do with you? We seem to be at a standstill."

Sarah could only gape in fear.

The shadow hummed to itself as it wound around the low tree just before her. "What a worthless heir you turned out to be." A breathy sigh. "And we had such high hope for you. He promised us so much, pleaded to allow you access to our gifts." A glowing grin found its target.

_Stall, Sarah, STALL! Just until you can get to that crystal._ She eyed her pack beneath the smoke anxiously.

"If you p-plan to k-kill me, at least explain what you mean. My last _wish_ of sorts."

"How bold you are to use our gifts against us." With a grand wave at the stone cupids still poised to fire, the shape slowly melted into the trunk of another tree. As Sarah watched the statues shift away from their ready position, the voice echoed louder.

"Such a wonderful thing, magic."

"Magic?" Sarah, still on the ground, inched a knee towards her bag.

"Dreams and desires, illusions of grandeur and mystique. The ability to bring something out of nothing and then wipe it out with a twist of an instance before it grows, wild and untamed, into reality. Into _life."_ The shadow leapt from the peach tree into a pear one nearby."It is the essence of my existence and every living thing in this realm."

"And just what are you?" Another knee closer.

"I am the nightmares and evils which haunt the mind. Part of the greatest living entity ever created…" The voice quieted momentarily, as if overpowered by its own splendor. "I am temptation, fear, _power_. The sins of this world and the next and the sorrows of those who fell before me. Greed, pride, sloth…" The smoke wisped across the face of the tree sensuously. "… _lust."_

Sarah was feet from her prize now, crawling steadily forwards.

"You have seen three of my faces. It is such a shame you cannot see the rest."

The voice didn't sound too apologetic to Sarah. Grabbing her pack, she blindly grabbed one of the crystals and spun back out. The trees still echoed with the smoke's amusement. Without a guess of which tree the mirage nested within, Sarah struggled with where to focus her attempt. There were easily fifty fruit trees to pick from. She closed her eyes to exemplify her sense of hearing. Sometimes, sight was distracting.

And she still had no idea what she was doing.

There was no time to practice. Sarah focused, pulling what spark of fear and anxiety had settled in her gut to the front of her mind. Just like a musician tapping the piano keys for the first time, she went into a nervous trance. It didn't need to be perfect, she thought. It just needed to be powerful enough to stun the figure. Perhaps even distract it long enough for her to escape. She'd already spat out more saliva than the lick of plum juice—perhaps she'd be able to count that as never indulging in gluttony. Damn spelled fruit.

It was her own fault, really. She'd read all the stories; Persephone and the pomegranate, Snow White and Eve and their apples. The Greek's even referred to the lotus fruit as a symbol of forgetfulness.

It figured.

She wished she'd known this charming piece of information prior to her first trip to a magical realm. But honestly, who would have thought mythology so akin to reality?

The crystal was slowly warming in her cupped hands. Sarah re-focused on finding an emotion.

_Please be enough_ , hoped the girl. It had to be. There were still four sins left in the Game and there was no way in hell she'd fail because of cliché enchanted fruit. If, _when_ , she made it out of the Underground, Sarah vowed to avoid them entirely. Damn fruit, indeed.

The voice had quieted again, disappearing entirely within the garden. She needed more time. Why was it that when she tried to use the magic, it didn't want to cooperate? The oasis flare had been relatively sudden. Instinctual, even. Perhaps she was over thinking the whole process. She still needed more time.

Sarah was vaguely aware that her question hadn't been fully answered. Perhaps a token absurd comment would distract the shadow.

"So you're the devil then? Coming to drag me to Hell?" Her hands were glowing warmer now. _Come on, damn it. Focus an emotion. I'm angry, pissed off in fact. I want a hot bath and a full meal and an extra large coffee. I'm so ready to call his Royal pain-in-the-ass out her and call HIM off too for starting this mess…some nerve he has, feeding me special peaches and pushing his magic off on me._

That seemed to do the trick. Whereas the crystal had begun a polished snow globe of silver dust, a crackling fire now nestled amongst her hands. It tickled and burned simultaneously, leaving Sarah with an urge to shake out heavy pins and needles. She strained to resist. There was no doubt as to why Jareth wore gloves.

_Thinking of which, he's been relatively quiet. How… odd._ She did a quick mental slap. _Jeez, Sarah! On death's door here and still stuck in the clouds._

"The devil? How quaint." The voice was clearly to Sarah's left now, and she angled slightly."No, I'm not Lucifer. Nor am I delivering His prize. I am the soul of the Game. I am the soul of the Labyrinth."

The answer couldn't have startled Sarah more, and the change of emotion caused the wild magic in her hands to flicker violently. It was all too much to control—the fear, the anger, the unspoken wonder and confusion over the plausibility of souls to take shape. A giant maze couldn't possibly be _alive_ , could it? What did that even _mean_? Walls and moss and hidden openings had no feelings, dreams or sinful desires. Rocks and bog water didn't struggle with morals. How did an oubliette determine right from wrong?

It was nonsensical. But then again, had anything made sense recently?

Sarah's unspoken word was the epitome of rhetorical questions. Where had she heard that nothing here was as it seemed? She had so many questions.

_Can the bit of magic I have save me from the very place it came from?_

It was the only shot she had at the moment. It had to work.

She let it go.

The sharp crack of power shook the surrounding trees like lightning striking a spark plug. The effect was blinding. Sarah fell backwards into her tree as white hot veins bounced like rubber off bark and branches to the sky. With the force of recoil, Sarah was certain she'd hit something more than just fruit trees. There had to be a greater force involved in the blow. Rubbing the sore spot on her head, she watched the sparked light fade into sunlight before giving way to the orchard greens.

But nothing had changed.

"What a pointless attempt. You may possess a part of my gift, but not enough to challenge the very soul of the Labyrinth itself." The shining face flowed from its trunk and floated before the girl. "You never deserved such magic."

But the voice had turned petulant now, like a toddler forced to share a favorite toy. It was the first genuine human emotion Sarah noticed. The shape's hollow eyes were clenched thin and its mouth scrunched up like silver ribbon. At any moment, she expected the shape to pound the ground childishly. It was a move she'd seen Toby pull off quite successfully.

"I never _wanted_ this magic! I didn't ask for it! You let me out of this Game and I'll get Jareth to return it to you, I promise."

"You choose to… _freely_ return the gifts? For an escape from a chance to rule?" The shadow watched Sarah's vehement nod. "I may be able to make an exception to the rules in this unusual case."

The Labyrinth clearly wanted its magic returned. The thought comforted the girl; she had a solid bargaining chip. And it didn't seem ready to kill her for it. Maybe it couldn't because of their shared magic? Sarah squirmed. God she hoped she wasn't falling into another trap.

The shape seemed to be thinking. Every few seconds, it would nod or frown pointedly, then resume a thoughtful stare.

"It would seem I can only bend Underground Law so much. You agree to return your magic, willingly and without coercion, and I can allow you through this stage without consequence."

"But wait, I want _out—_ "

"That cannot be done. The offer already stands as generous."

Sarah barely resisted the urge to scoff. She'd tasted the fruit, so she desperately needed an out here. She'd just have to take it one step at a time. But it was best to clarify before agreeing to any more wagers-even though her decision was really set.

"Right. So after I've completed the Game, _all of it_ , I promise out of my own free will, to return every bit of magic Jareth took from you."

The glimmer frowned. "And should you fail? My interests will be forgotten."

"Then figure out how to help me win. Aren't you the soul of the Game after all?" Her own boldness came as a shock. The realization that she possessed something the soul desired, but couldn't acquire on its own, was the strongest ammunition she'd had all Game. She had a second interest _wanting_ her to succeed. In the flick of an instant, her own fortune had reversed.

"Wish it so."

"Pardon?"

"Wish your wager to me, and it is accepted."

"Oh, uhh…right. I wish that after I win the Game, all the magic given to me by Jareth will be returned, out of my own free will, to the Labyrinth." A shock ran through Sarah's spine as she finished the line.

"It is done." The voice reverberated through the fading orchard.

The fruit trees were vanishing into the walls, the stone cupids shrinking into nothingness. The deal was made. Sarah was too pleased to be wary. She was moving on to fight another battle and nothing was more important than survival. Especially not magic she barely knew how to control.

Just before the scene disappeared completely, Sarah heard the Labyrinth whisper one last thought. The statement shot through Sarah's heart.

"What a worthless heir, indeed. Wagering through a stage she'd already passed by refusing to swallow. I'll be watching closely, Sarah Williams."

* * *

Jareth sprung from his perch in concern.

Something was wrong. Something had _happened_. Why couldn't she be found on the Game map? There was no sign of her completing the third stage. There wasn't even the obligatory removal of names from the tally board. By all appearances, she was alive and well, somewhere in his Labyrinth. But he couldn't find her. Nobody in the room could.

"Where did the mortal go? Her tracker is all fuzzy." A bidder near the board echoed Jareth's thoughts.

She had fallen into the orchard, slumbered, and awoken to some commotion. Then…nothing. Absolutely no trace of her next move. She had to still be alive. He would have known if the worst had occurred. He was certain of it. Or semi-confident at least. She had too great of an effect on him to vanish unnoticed.

_Just where are you, Sarah? And what did you see?_

He batted off the mob swarming closer and raced two steps at a time down the theatre and out the grand entrance. He needed space to collect himself. Perhaps the chaos of Bidders had hindered his connection to her. He could barely hear himself think, let alone listen for Sarah's call.

After securing an open stretch of hall, he allowed himself to collapse against one side. In his hunched position, he blocked out the surrounding noise and looked for some sign of her presence. She hadn't wished for him, of that he was certain. He would have felt the sharp tug of magic. And she clearly hadn't given up; the tracker would have done more than blank out. It just didn't make sense.

Had anyone been foolish enough to pass through the hall occupied by the brooding Goblin King in that instant, it was unlikely they'd ever pass again. The king was not one to give way to his emotions, good or otherwise. A public show of this weakness would be damning. Yet, he continued to slip farther down the wall until his breeches stretched out before him.

Until the moment of her disappearance, he had not allowed himself to dwell on ends which didn't include a victorious Sarah Williams. Her chances were dodgy at best from a knowledge standpoint and lord knew she hadn't mastered her magic yet.

But she had bypassed every expectation once before.

He had to keep that thought alive. She was a spirited, ingenious woman who had a gift of pushing her way into the hearts of any creature she met. That was her true magic. If there was a talent more necessary for a leader, he couldn't place it. He quirked a corner of his lip. She was irreplaceable.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled six times to signal the Game's mid-point. One of the heirs had fallen during the third task—the number of chimes was one less than before. His smirk fell with his stomach. Whether Sarah would meet him there was becoming more unlikely, but he fought to maintain some optimism. There _had_ to be a reason why she'd been masked. Certainly, a lesser runner had been lost…

But he didn't remember any of the others failing gluttony during his watch.

His heart clenched tight. _Oh Sarah, god's no…it's not possible. It can't be._ He shook his head in disgust.

_Oh gods, what have I done? Sarah, my Sarah…This is all my fault…_

His composure was crumbling to sand. She'd left him before, but he'd known where to find her. He'd seen her live a beautiful life above, tempting mortals with her charms. She hadn't been his, but she'd been happy. What a fool he was to meddle. She didn't deserve this fate; forgotten by her world and dismissed by the Underground. Hiding his blurry eyes, he cradled his head deep in his lap.

_I need you._

"Ex-excuse me? Sire?" The nervous voice caused Jareth's head to snap up with deathly speed.

" _What!"_

"Err…the uhh, the Watchers are all needed in the Great Hall…mid-way point and all…uhh, you know…to see—"

Jareth had pushed the stuttering attendant away before he leapt to his feet. It seemed no where in the blasted tower could he find peace. The nerve of the High King and Queen to call him to watch the happy returns of all but his Sarah…rules be damned to Hell. He stalked off towards the meeting with the intent to hurl a very large crystal at the pair.

Something twinged. Shaking off a shock in his palms, he picked up his pace. He wasn't sure he could keep his emotions in check long enough to meet them. The last time the monarch had been so agitated also revolved around the raven haired beauty. His Kingdom never fully repaired from that bend in control. The Escher Room had been a lost cause. And then this mess had begun.

He growled. The stress was unending.

The doors slammed open with the force of a storm as Jareth made his way through the crowd of Bidders. Adding to his distaste, the mass had tripled since his retreat. If he squinted, a few runners could be seen on the dais normally occupied by the High King, shaking hands and accepting favors. He didn't need to look twice to tell neither was Sarah.

"'Ey, watch where yeh walk Goblin King!" Something large and scaly slid past, knocking him completely off balance.

_That damn ogre better sleep with one fucking eye open tonight…I don't give a shit what delegation I incite…_

"Hey, Goblin King! Over here! You better be ready to explain yourself, or I'll-"

Jareth froze. The voice was delightfully angry.

"…I'll…Oh, I'll give you a piece of _my_ mind…"

Then in an instant, his turn was sharp, his eyes full, and his throat dry as dust. In that single moment he forgot where he was entirely. It didn't matter. Nothing else had ever mattered—not like her. His feet moved on their own accord. He wasn't thinking.

With the world forgotten, he made a final stride in her direction and let his emotions untie his Labyrinthine magic. And within that single instant, he made another impulsive move.

He kissed her.


	13. Unexpected Consequences

Sarah never saw it coming.

His mouth slid across hers hungrily, soft as silk and full of promise. She froze instinctively, but before she could protest, he had pulled her close in a possessive embrace. Warm and lean, he fit neatly against her chest even as she realized what was happening and pushed her arms against him. Her meager resistance only caused the monarch to attack her mouth with greater force.

Back and forth, he baited her frozen lips to meld with his own until finally, he felt her arms relax. Sensing her willpower breaking, he wrapped his hands on her neck like a leather cloak, caressing upwards until they rested across her cheeks.

Sarah's thoughts were balancing on a wire. If he had kissed her at any other instant, she'd have tried harder to fight it. But _ohhhhh God,_ Sarah felt her eyes flutter, she was exhausted and his touch was electric. The shock rippled down her chest and through her spine to fill her stomach with the spark of a thousand fireflies. And he felt so _right_. She was melting against him, feeling her anger wash away with his wave of raw passion. _This is what my dream-self wanted, why fight it?_ She couldn't even if she'd had really tried. He was everywhere. One hand moved to tangle her hair, pulling fiercely on the strands behind her ear before sliding down her neck, then back across her crown as if letting go would be falling off the edge of the world.

She had to exhale her breath of protest against his thin lips. _He was so warm. And he smelled so good._ She was close enough to drink in his scent—a spicy mix of sandalwood and something wilder, something magical and uniquely his own. The fragrance drenched her lips as he continued to taste her eagerly. He hadn't stilled his lips for a moment. Sarah's concerns were forgotten. She'd been kissed before but _ohhhh God,_ not like this. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

He was scalding now, sending heat through his lips into her lower abdomen. Sarah fed the flame, slowly parting her lip in ecstasy as she let herself be drugged by his touch. Sharp canines nibbled at her bottom lip, sending a tingle through her tongue, her mouth, and back through her body until she pushed her lips back against his own, fighting to catch up. In that moment of surrender, the world stopped moving. Sarah felt his other hand snake lower across her throat, over her chest, and rest on her hip. The feel of cool leather on her bare skin sent a shiver to her toes, and she exhaled again, moaning softly.

The hand gripped her hip hard and in another instant, the feel of summer sin was gone from her lips and the spicy scent was drifting out of her head. Sarah shivered, confused as to why the room was suddenly so cold. And why she felt so hung-over. She opened her eyes to catch her balance. Two wide eyes, pools of black lead and fire, stilled inches from her own. With their desire clear, the cool blue and brown were pushed thin. Sarah was certain her own hazel eyes showed the same clouded appearance.

Jareth jumped back as if her eyes burned, but the pair's ragged breathing did little to disguise what had just occurred. Her head was clearing now and Sarah noted the world _had_ stopped around them. The crowd had tightened and stilled, and the couple's heavy breathing was the only sound in the theatre as a thousand eyes watched on, poised for a greater exchange, desperate for explanations.

Sarah was no different. But the silent herd was intimidating and good lord this was a _private_ discussion.

_Goblin King…Jareth. Just what…why did you do that? Kiss me?_ She didn't find herself settled to speak anyway.

The look on his face was painful and Sarah immediately regretted her tone. He was clearly torn by what he'd done; she never seen him act so quickly and…urgently. There was no better word for it. He had kissed her like a man who'd never see his love again. But that couldn't be true. It was preposterous even. He'd treated her like a bad penny since her return; troublesome and worthless. He'd tricked her into running the Labyrinth again, choking her with his magic and taunting her to survive. Hadn't he? Was she missing something? Sarah felt lost.

The whole situation made no sense! What kind of a person did all that? Certainly not one with…feelings? Sarah scoffed. It was more likely to throw her off her game. That must be it; a power-play by an all powerful King. He'd tried the same move before of course, in the ballroom, with the poisoned peach and all that dancing…

_Jareth_.

The king still looked to be in agony. His normally guarded expression was twisted and cross.

_Jareth, listen to me, I'm exhausted, starving, and barely conscious here. I know what you are doing but if you do one thing for me, just stop, please. I've had enough of your ploys and I need to finish this Game, return the Labyrinth's magic and go home._

The pain on his face morphed into panic. "What?"

"I need to go _home_ , and I'm not keeping the ma—"

_SILENTLY!_ The force of his thought seemed to echo around the room, but nobody flinched. _What do you mean, Sarah?_

_I know what you did. The Labyrinth falling apart wasn't my fault, it was yours. You did this! You gave me the Labyrinth's magic. YOU! You dragged me into this mess!_

_ We need to talk, Sarah. In private. We have some time before the mid-way feast, grab my hand _ _._

She didn't need to reply; the distrust was painted across her face.

_ Please, Sarah _ _._

With a single motion, the two vanished amidst a room of chaos to reappear in the holding room from days before. Sarah pulled her tingling hand from his as she adjusted to the shift. A nagging part of her pushed that listening to him was a mistake. Witnesses were indeed preferable to privacy. It was too late now.

His eyes followed her path to the couches. He was giving her space, at least. The thought calmed her nerves slightly.

"I know it's true, don't bother denying it. You _lied_ to me."

"I never lie, Sarah." His voice was taken on an eerie calm now, as if speaking on the weather.

"Bullshit. You manipulated me into thinking I'd ruined the Labyrinth! You blamed _me_ when you giving me magic screwed up this whole place. What kind of sick person does that? Tell me!"

The cultured mask slipped for another second before his face settled. She wasn't used to his silent avoidance.

"Damn it Jareth, say something!"

"And precisely what would you have me say?"

Sarah was incredulous. She'd called him out to his face, hell in front of a thousand beings, and he had nothing to say? The arguing was doing nothing to ease her exhaustion.

"You're impossible!" Her hands strayed to her hair, an unconscious sign of frustration and she sighed. "Just tell me one thing. Why?"

Her plea was so soft, Sarah wasn't sure he'd heard her. He was angled away now, towards the ticking clock in the room and his eyes were blocked by blond hair. Even if his face registered her request, she could not tell. His posture was stiff, his breathing calmer than just after their kiss.

"You disappeared, you know." He still hadn't turned. "Not a sign of you after you woke."

His comment effectively distracted her from her thought and she pinched her face back sharply. "Hunh?"

"I'm still not certain how you managed it." He cocked his head towards her, curiosity in his mismatched eyes. She noticed absently that his pupils had shrunk to normal size. "Pray tell, just what mischief did you cause?"

"The test was in an orchard. I figured it out."

"That explains _nothing_. Tell me how you masked yourself from every fae watching." He sounded more agitated than angry, rushing through his words.

"Masked? I don't know what the hell you're talking about! I was there, in the orchard, the whole time. I had just figured a way out when I came to the hall."

Something in her statement gave him pause. "A way out?"

"Yes." Sarah turned her face away, refusing to elaborate. She remembered now what she'd wanted to ask before he caught her off-guard. Why all the games? Why that sinful kiss? With all the confusion, she needed to hear it from him.

"You will tell me what occurred in that orchard Sarah. _Now._ "

She harrumphed ungracefully. "And in turn you'll explain all your actions, right?" His stony expression confirmed her lead-in. "I thought so." Sarah had heard enough. If she wouldn't be answered, she'd let him rot in frustration a bit and see how well _he_ liked it. He'd answer her then, she was certain of it. She made for the door and paused only once, mere inches from the knob, but instead of looking back, threw it open and vanished down the hall.

He let her go.

Letting out a huff of air, he slid back down against the door and tried to collect his thoughts. He was still concerned about his actions around her. It was best to settle before slipping again.

The scene in the hall was impossibly inappropriate. He hadn't been in control. He hadn't even tried to hide his emotions. Jareth drummed his fingers against the floor. Orion knew what rumors the Bidders were tossing about now.

_But what nobody knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and had given her certain powers…_

The line echoed through his head. If anyone found out the truth…

He couldn't even consider the consequences. The power was one problem, obviously. He'd broken a serious law. There was a reason Aboveground mortals couldn't perform magic. Thousands of years of wars, treatises, broken alliances, and further entanglements were proof enough that the species couldn't be trusted with near limitless powers. The complexities of the human condition were too great. Their emotions were too strong, their willpower often weak. Strength to carry a tree was one thing. Magic to carry a forest was another. And they'd try it if they had the chance. The Salem catastrophe was a whole other story.

No. Magic was not something the human race could handle.

The second concern was his reason for granting Sarah his magic. _Love._ The word still sounded strange, even after all that had happened. Even after he'd acknowledged it. The Fae chased, toyed, controlled… _lusted_. The Fae did not love. It was unheard of. It was unacceptable. But it wasn't impossible.

It was all a matter of pride. The ability to refuse emotional attachments put Fae above their human neighbors. Or so they boasted. As if not needing unconditional attachment made the race stronger. Jareth frowned. Part of the reasoning held merit. He obviously cared too much to be brooding on a scuffed up floor over a girl.

He forced himself to his feet, realizing there was no hope for him now. Not after he'd kissed her. She had tasted of plums and cinnamon cider; sweet like honey and just as ensnaring. It was impressive he'd been conscious enough to back off when she'd moaned. Even now that he'd settled, he could barely remember anything but her lips. He had been lost, a thought that caused him endless concern. It could not happen again. No matter how delicious the moment, he had to restrain himself for her sake. Jareth rubbed his eyes tiredly. The whole situation was a mess.

And he was no closer to figuring out what she'd done in the orchard. He wasn't sure he could reign in his worry if it happened again. He was the Goblin King, damn it. He was not used to being denied by his crystal magic.

The clock struck a chord beside him, signaling the call for the mid-way feast. A ghost of a smile graced his face. No reason he couldn't enjoy a fine meal with even finer company. He promised to make the most of his precious time, even if she still fought him at every turn and refused to share her secret. She had always been a spitfire. And emotions be damned, he'd not let his wall down again.

But if Sarah wanted answers-really wished for them-he would have to give them to her.

* * *

Somewhere between her holding room and a third staircase, Sarah was forced to admit she had no idea where she was. She would have asked for directions if she could have, but the empty hallways just didn't look responsive. Where was everybody? After that scene in the hall, the desertion was almost expected. Rolling her eyes, she moved to sit on a shining stair to wait only to be met with an outstretched hand.

"Come Sarah, the feast is waiting."

She only glared. His directions didn't count.

"I know you are starving, don't be a child." Jareth kept his face suspiciously blank. "The food is usually passable."

A low rumble came from Sarah's stomach, and she frowned in annoyance. She _was_ quite hungry. "Fine. But I'm not talking to you."

He only inclined his head and rolled his wrist in acknowledgment. It was enough for now. She offered her hand, and they reappeared in a flash of light before a new set of double doors. The rush of voices inside proved the feast had already begun.

Perhaps, Sarah hoped, they could slip in unnoticed. Her cheeks burned in remembrance of her last scene with the masses. She was certain nobody had forgotten. As much as she tried to, she couldn't forget. Damn him, and damn her traitorous body too. She wouldn't let him play her again. The dreams meant nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.

Satisfied, she caught his eye and nodded, and the pair pushed open the door to face the chaos.

If the hinges hadn't creaked, Sarah was certain her entrance would have been ignored. But that was all it took to cause a scene. Table by table, guests had turned towards the scrape of rusted metal, probably curious as to who had the gall to show up late to a royal function. Sarah felt a thousand eyes find her and stay, and she squirmed in the candlelight. Nearly fifty tables had frozen mid-bite now, some guests arched uncomfortably to see who had caused the reaction, others had stretched their necks like springs.

It was clear they remembered.

Her whole body itched terribly, but she couldn't move, and she blamed the crawling tingle of her skin on the bug-eyed beings around her. The sound of clattering metal echoed from the back; someone had dropped a utensil. Why was the room so warm? Sarah's stomach lurched as she tugged at her collar. And why were people swaying? The room was spinning now, round tables dancing in mid-air, lights bobbing in and out of vision. She knew she was going to be sick. She had to get out of here. Otherwise, she'd pass out from embarrassment and then she'd never be able to face the fae again. Ever.

"Breathe, Sarah. You need to eat something." Jareth's voice was low and warm in her ear. His arms came up to catch her limping body. "If we sit, they'll ignore us."

She was too faint to fight him, and allowed him to guide her to the head table, barely conscious of how he'd angled his body to protect her from prying eyes. He sat her in the chair farthest from the High King and slid in beside her, still keeping an arm on her shoulder should she fall. But she seemed to be breathing easier now. He allowed himself a moment of relief when he saw her color had improved.

A light chatter picked up in the hall, nowhere near as loud as before, but it covered the sounds of nervous breathing. Sarah let out a sigh in relief as the room stopped dancing.

"Thanks," she mumbled, picking at the ivory tablecloth.

He nodded and dropped his arm, glaring suddenly at the guest ogling him at the next table. The woman turned away sharply and quickly stabbed at her salad. The room noise picked up again.

Sarah had allowed herself a few moments before shuffling her chair under the table. She too had seen the look the guest had given the Goblin King. And it was certainly at him, not at her like before. Or had the room stopped for them both? It occurred to Sarah that she was not the only reason for the crowd's silent treatment. More than a few blue-eyed guests were now throwing odd glances Jareth's way. Well, he had been responsible for the…spectacle after all. Sarah frowned. He had settled down far easier than she had, but he had clearly been upset by his display. His ploy may have gotten out of hand? How unlike him. He always seemed to have everything so frustratingly in control. She needed food. Food, then answers.

Someone placed a bowl of steaming soup before her, and Sarah dug in, not stopping to cool her spoonfuls. A goblet of sweet wine, a bitter salad and a creamy yogurt dish came and went just as quickly. As Sarah picked at what she assumed was the main course, a leg of some unrecognizable meat, she properly considered the dining room.

It was a ballroom, she thought with some disdain. Ivory clothed tables formed a wide circle around a polished space of floor. A few couples were already swaying to the soft music in the background which twinkled as if bells had been strung to butterflies. Gilded chandeliers hung across the walls and the candlelight, no longer blipping in and out, was laying a sheet of gold across the crystal goblets and pale faces. The shine made white teeth and blue eyes shades lighter than expected.

The room was filled with laughter now, the horrors of the Game seemingly forgotten. Sarah wanted to join them, but couldn't shake the eerie sense of déjà-vu. Had she been here before? She drained her second goblet, still on edge. Those chandeliers were so familiar…

She snuck a glance at Jareth. He hadn't so much as coughed a word since they'd sat. His eyes were lowered to his empty plate, one hand rubbing the rim of his full glass, the other cradling his chin. He was either deep in thought or trying to burn a hole through the china. The thought was vaguely amusing. He sighed, and a soft strand of blond hair fell across his face. Before she knew it, her hand was poised to tuck it back behind his ear so she could continue admiring his face.

Her breath caught.

_Whoa, Sarah. That's enough wine for you._ She squeezed her hands together on her lap to keep from straying again. The sweet drink had clearly done wonders mellowing her out if she was starting to enjoy his company. Sarah groaned and half-giggled; the candlelight was dancing again.

"Contestants, Bidders, and honored guests," a strong voice shot out. "On this night of merriment, let us enjoy our drink and dine in honor of runners past and present. Let us celebrate those who prove their strength and wit, and dance in the light of a new glorious ruler." The High King finished his speech to polite applause, and a shuffle of chairs against marble.

"Damn." Jareth's voice was rough with frustration.

"What? They picked a ruler already?"

"Stand up, Sarah. It seems you'll be blessed with further attention."

"I won?" Her voice was squeaking, and she shot to her feet, stumbling slightly. A frown and jerk of Jareth's head stopped her from continuing.

The High King spoke again. "Contestants, please address your partners for the first dance."

"First dance? Oh no. No way am I _dancing,_ " Sarah moaned, swaying towards the doors.

"I assure you, you have no option in the matter. I am certain some charming Bidder is willing to join you."

Even half-conscious of her body, Sarah couldn't help but notice how bitter he sounded. The wine was distorting her vision though, and her brain suddenly felt a bit jumbled. The thought left just as quickly as it came.

"Mhmm. Right then. Dancing."

She skirted around the table and slowly zigzagged across the room, grasping the chairs for support. Nobody offered an arm. Nobody moved towards her. Sarah leaned on a table near the dance floor as she giggled again. The polished floor looked utterly fascinating. Somebody gasped nearby, clearly at a loss for her actions. Sarah just tried to keep the floor from bouncing.

Jareth quickly became aware of an unexpected consequence of his kiss. The Bidders were avoiding Sarah. She was holding the back of a chair, just waiting for an offer, but nobody was stepping forward. He frowned. In fact, they weren't even looking at her now. Apprehensive eyes fell upon him, as if he was expected to lead her out as his untouchable possession. The masses were cautious. Indeed, the wary looks reminded him of a herd of goblins after a bogging threat.

This was a problem. If the Bidders wouldn't offer her a hand to dance, would they even grant her favors in the Game? Had she become completely off-limits?

Fear was a very powerful deterrent, it seemed. For her sake, the monarch hoped he could control himself. Dancing with her was just as dangerous.

"Come, Sarah, just hold on." He appeared out of nowhere, taking her to the side of the floor. "Five minutes and we depart." Jareth felt her arms take his shoulders, and wondered if she had any idea where she was. Or who she was with. He felt certain had she been clear-headed, she'd have beaten him with a goblet instead.

All Sarah knew was that she was spinning too fast. The colors were too bright, the laughter too loud. She buried her head into the warm body holding her up, grateful for the support. The person smelled familiar, Sarah decided. Certainly nice enough to hold onto until the spinning stopped. She let herself fall into him and relished the feel of his arms tightening around her waist. Nice enough to rest for a minute. She hummed in satisfaction and Jareth stiffened.

"Breathe, Sarah. Just until we can sit."

Recognition flickered for an instant and Sarah opened her eyes to find long blonde hairs blocking her vision. A breathy sigh on his neck caused him to freeze again.

"Can't see nothin'…hair tickles…" The phrase was more giggled than spoken. She blew harder.

"That's…" He swallowed quickly, throat dry. "That's enough, Sarah. Just another minute."

Whether she'd understood him was unclear, but she stopped. Perhaps, Jareth hoped, he would make it through the rest of the dance without throwing her against a glitter-painted wall and attacking her lips again. Or more. Her smell was enticing enough to drug him, and the wine she'd drunk made her breath hot and sweet against his throat. He felt her squirm against him. By the Gods, she was making this far too difficult. He wished he had vanished that second goblet she'd requested; Sarah was far more intoxicated than she should be. Why hadn't he told her of the Fae wine's potency? He felt her slouch flat across his torso, and before he could add another check to the 'errors of the evening' column, he was forced to press his body tight to hers to keep them both from collapsing. The only blessing of her intoxication was that she probably wouldn't notice the rising attention his body was giving her.

This dance needed to stop, _now_ , or things were going to escalate whether he wanted them to or not.

"We're leaving." The music barely ended with his phrase. He didn't even pause to bow to the High King before twirling a crystal and sending them to her waiting room, laying her gently across a couch and conjuring a blanket. He allowed himself one last glance at her sleeping form before turning to the door. She needed the rest before the Game continued tomorrow.

And he needed an ice cold bath.


	14. Understandings and Realizations

"I would strongly advise you to explain yourself, Jareth." The request was anything but cordial. "You made quite the spectacle yesterday evening."

The chamber was dim, lit only by a glare of morning sun, but still the pair of men eyed each other clearly. The room was too cold to be refreshing, and the silks and marble too dark to admire, so neither took the time to do so. It was not a welcoming place; certainly not during a serious conversation. Jareth had never had the pleasure to visit the halls which made up Cael's private wing before, but quickly knew such visits were to be anything but pleasurable.

"A temporary lapse in control, Cael. Nothing more." The monarch in question waved his hand dismissively, attempting to swat the issue away and remain distant. But even he knew that time had passed when he felt a crackle of anger pierce the air. Long gone was the innocuous banter and mild sarcasm. Their relationship had shifted from friendship to formality, and the tension swept in thick as the Bog. Jareth steadied his gaze.

"I have no less than five hundred witnesses swearing you _claimed_ the girl. You plea a lapse in control?" The High King's harsh tone and thinning stare left little room for argument.

Jareth shifted to one side and scowled. He had hoped the whole issue had been forgotten following last night's joyous debacle; there had been no shortage of wine. The last thing he needed was a royal inquisition. He recognized that look in his old Watcher's eye, hungry and determined, and resigned himself to a surely disagreeable chat. Narrowing his eyes in frustration, he spun a suitable response, keeping his posture still and chin steady to avoid speculation. Truth was a dangerous line to cross.

"My work is with mortals. The girl simply intrigues me."

"And of course her status as sole Champion during your reign holds no bearing?" It was a quick response and the High King seemed to know the answer already, stretching his words and brows wide.

"All my challengers are intriguing."

The weak reply was ignored, and the High King furthered his speculation. "I find it particularly intriguing how well-adapted _this_ girl seems to be. Wouldn't you agree?"

Jareth didn't like where this was heading. He jerked for a second, wondering if he'd been had, before focusing on the High King's hard eyes. He was hiding something important, he decided, something regarding him. Could he possibly know about the magic? He pushed the fear aside, continuing with his evasive truths. Acknowledgment was too risky.

"A testament to her previous victory. The girl was nothing if not resilient." It was close enough to truth. He shifted back to his right leg, still unsettled by the turn of comments. The notion that he was missing something prickled his curiosity, and he was not one to sit back and accept. "Unless you possess other information, Cael?"

"When I _do_ —and I assuredly will—you shall be the first to hear it."

The threat was obvious, as was the High King's interest in the situation. Jareth tried to keep his breathing even, but the knowledge that steps had already been taken to unveil the mystery came as a surprise. He could have sworn this issue had been _settled_. Sarah was running, what did it matter if she'd adapted well? The rest of the heirs were clearly pathetic candidates. Cael rarely interfered with Game proceedings, particularly matters as speculative as this. And never his own matters. Jareth pinched his lips to keep from arguing. Nothing good would come of it.

His thoughts drifted to Sarah. Cael had said 'when' regarding the news; at least he still had time. She only needed a day or so. The Game would be over then, one outcome or another. Preferably one outcome _over_ another.

"You have not given me much choice in this matter, Jareth. I am High King above all else."

It was as close to an apology as could be expected. It wasn't wanted. Jareth understood dilemmas well enough. Everyone had priorities; his were just more personal than professional. Jareth wiped his face of emotion just as Cael offered a slim smile. But the damage had been done.

"If I may be excused, High King." Jareth spun a semblance of civility into his drawl, but he knew it sounded forced.

"Just go, Jareth. See to your intriguing girl."

He didn't look back.

* * *

It took very little time for Eran to acknowledge that although he had many strengths, navigating the Labyrinth was not one of them.

Day one of his errand had begun well enough. It had taken him a few hours to reach the Southern Gate, and mere minutes to find a way through the wall. His current guess was that the library would be close to the Goblin King, so he sought the castle. He'd turned right, tracing the inner wall with his hand until he slipped into an opening, and had settled into a comfortable rhythm of picking the first gap of every new corridor. Surely he'd come across something or _someone_ useful. His pace was steady, his breathing calm, and his path free of obstacles until dusk. As the twin moons rose and he rested for the night, Eran was certain he'd made progress. Tomorrow, he'd decided, he'd reach the castle and find that library.

Morning had been a baffling affair. The sun rose as usual, the walls creaked with fatigue, and his journey continued. But where he'd been _certain_ he'd been close enough to the castle to see the shape of doors and windows against the stone, he could now barely see the outline at all. Squinting only brought more aggravation. He was farther from the center than he'd been when he'd started.

Eran couldn't decide if the Labyrinth had moved, or he'd been moved. Neither was acceptable. And thus he found himself on day two—hungry, lost, and frustrated.

Eran groaned, thinking his errand was never going to end. Stuffing his feet back into his boots, he resigned himself to another day of searching. It wasn't as if he had another choice. He'd rather be trapped in the Labyrinth than return to the High King empty handed. He'd heard the stories. He knew the consequences. He assured himself it was foolish to even consider anything less than the complete story of Sarah Williams.

What could she have possibly have done to warrant this attention? To him, she'd seemed harmless. A bit high-strung and upset, but that was to be expected. She was mortal; mortals never understood the Fae ways. The realms were too different to compare and the few stories that had made it above were vague at best. And by no means were the few hours of instruction upon arrival enough preparation for a Game such as this one. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She wasn't meant to stand a chance.

The mortals never were.

When Eran considered the last human runners, hundreds of years before her, they'd been a laughable excuse for heirs. Clueless and tired, neither man had made it past the first stage. The High King hadn't even bothered to learn their names, let alone histories. And yet here he was, trudging through a maze which was not meant to solved, for a girl. He shook his head. It was puzzling.

Why was she so concerning? Just because she'd defeated _this_ Goblin King? He paused as his pocket hummed.

Could there possibly be more to it than that?

"Your majesty, pleasant morning to you." Eran took care not to drop the sphere, speaking clearly at his palms.

"Eran. I assume you are near the library by now?"

"Close, sire. Perhaps a day more." Gods he hoped that was all it took.

"A day at most, Eran. More is unacceptable." A low growl came through the sphere, sounding more beast than human. "I've just spoken with Jareth. There's no doubt that Sarah Williams is more than his words. Find that record Eran. _Immediately."_

The sphere went dull before Eran could respond _._ He couldn't help but think it was better he hadn't. Not until he found that library.

"Who's there? Somebody messin' with me hedges?" A gravelly voice startled the Fae, and he turned fast to find a squatty little man pointing a spray can to his face.

Eran raised his hands in peace. "Easy there, I'm not here for the hedges."

The dwarf looked hesitant to lower his device. But it was hard to tell his expression through the brown wrinkles and dirt on his face. He wasn't smiling, at least. And he looked stiff, as if he was straining to add a few inches by good posture. The large pouch dangling from his belt appeared to be giving him some trouble, however.

"My name is Eran. I mean no harm, truly." He watched the dwarf lower his arms, and continued. "Perhaps you can help? I seem to be lost."

"I ain't got no time for helpin'. It's yeh's own fault for wishin'…serves yeh right." He shook out his arm and turned back to his hedges, angrily squirting a spot.

"I haven't wished away a child; I am on a mission for the High King. Believe me dwarf, the last thing I want is to become a runner. The last victor's in more trouble than she bargained for."

The can fell forgotten as the dwarf cried out. "Whadya mean by that? Yeh know about Sarah?"

"Sarah Williams? You know her?" Eran was just as startled.

"'Course I do! Hoggle's her friend. Helped her best that rat Jareth too." His chest puffed up a bit before dropping with his frown. "What'd he do to her now?"

Eran ignored the dwarf's plea. "You helped her through the Labyrinth? Sarah Williams?" He couldn't believe his luck.

"Hmph. Not thinkin' I could, are yeh? Hoggle's no coward. Not after meetin' her."

Eran praised whatever god had sent this dwarf to him. If he'd helped Sarah through, he'd know what her run entailed. The library may not even be necessary. His spirits rose with the thought, even as the dwarf began muttering impatiently.

"Yeh gunna tell me whadya mean 'bout Sarah bein' in trouble, or is I gunna have to knock some sense outta ya?" He raised his small fists high, giving Eran a 'just try me' stare.

"I'll tell you what, Hoggle?" The dwarf nodded. "You tell me what happened during Sarah's first run, and I'll tell you all I know. Deal?"

A calloused hand shot out in response, and the pair shook.

"Deal." Hoggle cracked a knuckle and settled on a low rock. "All began at the gate. She'd been after me fairies…"

Eran made sure to pay attention.

* * *

Sarah Williams woke with a terrible headache.

"Uhhhh. Damn it…never drinking again…" She kicked the blanket (blanket?) off her legs and pushed herself to a sitting position. Her head throbbed with the shift, and she cringed, rubbing her temples with both thumbs. She knew better than this. The drinking hadn't even dulled her dreams of spinning ballrooms and Jareth. Last night's had seemed so _real,_ she could still smell his spicy mix on her tunic and was that a blond hair on her shoulder? She pulled it off carefully.

_How in the world…?_ She froze, remembering. There had been drinking, a feast, bright lights and music. And spinning, no…dancing. _Jareth_. It all came back to her, and she groaned, letting her face fall into her hands in shame.

_Nice going, Sarah. Just HAD to go and fall into his arms, didn't you?_

The couch squeaked meekly as she leaned forward. She slept on a couch? She quickly glanced up, placing herself. She recognized her holding room by the ornate clock in the corner, ticking merrily away, and calmed. But she didn't remember walking back here. Actually, she didn't remember anything past the dance. Who had brought her here? Jareth? She scoffed, eying the blanket now on the floor. She was certain he'd rather lose his crown than tuck her in.

She tried not to dwell on it. Her head hurt enough as it was. She needed water. She stood to stretch, twisting her neck to loosen the stiffness found there, and looked for a sink or glass.

On the dresser where she'd pulled out her clothes, a silver tray sat. A flask of steaming tea and a bowl of brown oats had been placed in the center. Sarah moved to the tea, and took a considerable sip as she decided on the oats; she wasn't sure they'd stay down. Her stomach turned as the smell intensified, and she pushed them away, only to reveal a short, elegantly penned note.

_Sarah,_

_I'm certain you'll want nothing after last night, but please try to eat something. The Game continues at 9 sharp._

_Do try to keep from disappearing again._

_-J_

Sarah found the note almost…thoughtful. Not at all like his typical attitude, at least. She crumpled the note up, frowning. What _was_ he playing at? Could he actually care?

She finished the tea, and a few spoonfuls of oats, without coming to any conclusions. But the thought that he'd carried to back to her room, and conjured a blanket, was starting to pick at her consciousness.

A long set of dongs saved her from the unsettling notion, and she turned to the door. Nine o'clock sharp.

Sarah watched the room fade around her, deep woods becoming familiar greens and grays. She came to the orchard, shriveled and fruitless, and gates wide before her. She didn't recognize the path they opened to. It wasn't surprising.

Sarah found her sack under a broken limb, and turned to the unknown. She still had four stages to beat, and God forbid she'd waste time reconsidering Jareth's motivations. She doubted even _he_ knew what he was up to at this point. She started walking, watching the Goblin King's castle loom closer and closer.

And without warning, she fell.

* * *

"And we left her at the throne room. Let her face him alone, we did. Dunno what happened, but she got her brother back fine, and that was that." Hoggle finished his story with a toothy grin.

"Fascinating." Eran tried to absorb the lengthy tale. "So she faced him alone at the end? Anything odd occur afterward?"

"Err…called us to all to her house to party…"

"Jareth too?"

"Nah, and he's been a sore loser 'bout it all...kept mostly to himself since…" He shuffled his feet in the dirt, ignoring Eran's widening eyes.

"He was upset about the party, then?"

Hoggle just shrugged.

"And he threatened to make you, uh, Prince of the Bog if she kissed you? And he sent her a dream?" His look was searching, as if the answer was on the tip of the dwarf's large nose.

"Err…Land of Stench…an' I dunno 'bout no dream…just the peach—" Hoggle bit his tongue, knowing he'd said too much. A 'piece of fruit' was harmless; peaches meant something. And he knew the Fae boy hadn't missed his slip.

Eran lit up like a firefly, eyes bulging and jaw slack. "A peach…" It was just a whisper of a question. But words were no longer needed. The panicked look in Hoggle's face was an easy confirmation.

"Ahh, sure it meant nothin'," he urged, twisting his hands nervously, "…distraction an' all…"

"A _peach_. No wonder…" He trailed off. "Thank you for the story, you've been most helpful." Eran could barely contain his relief as he stretched, nodding at the fearful dwarf. The High King would be quite interested in this development.

"Now wait here you! What about yer end of the bargain? Whad'ya know 'bout Sarah bein' in trouble?" Hoggle stopped the Fae before he turned.

Eran's smile wavered, knowing this news would only cause the girl more trouble. But a mission was a mission, and a deal with a dwarf still a deal. "The High King is determined to learn her history, at all costs. He's convinced the Goblin King is hiding something important about her." He paused. "And now I'm convinced as well. She's more than she seems. She's more to him, even."

Hoggle's throat went dry, and he was unable to stop the boy as he bowed to him once, and hurried back the way he'd come. Now he'd done out. Sarah was in trouble with the High King himself, and it was all his fault. Hoggle's knees buckled, and he stared miserably at the dirt, unable to move. It didn't make any difference. He'd be as good as dead when Jareth found out.

* * *

Sarah fell, dropping feet first through pure night.

"AHHHHHH!" Her shrieks came naturally, even though a fall was the last thing she'd expected.

Grabbing blindly for something to slow her down, she found herself flailing through hot air, shrieking louder and louder as she realized there were no hands to help her up, or help her down, or any help at _all._ She twisted faster. She couldn't focus, convinced this was it; that one wrong step had killed her, falling and falling through black until she smashed every bone in her body…maybe it'd be so quick she wouldn't feel it.

The burst of white light came as no shock. She was certain she'd died already; an airy chant was throbbing in her head as the light burned at her eyes.

_Fall amongst the hollow darkness,_

_Child of powers mine._

_Come Fourth of all sins of man;_

_A way to leave behind._

_Not to have and not to keep,_

_The treasures of the light._

_One must always pay the price,_

_When wanting trades our sight._

Sarah let the words float through her mind, heart beating faster with the chance to 'leave behind'. It was too bad she was hallucinating escape in her death, she thought. She had seemed so close to winning. She let herself drift.

She was still falling, but the air had cooled, and her arms stopped flailing. Sarah barely noticed. The light was so harsh and the space too great and what good would anything do if one was gone? She didn't expect the soft thud of her feet upon ground or the chant to fade completely. She didn't expect the white light to dim. And because of this, she found herself sprawled awkwardly on a pit of sand with no idea how it happened.

She inched her eyes open, and rolled onto her side, moaning. What had happened? She'd been certain she'd lost. There had been light, angels chanting…God she was certain she'd fallen at least a thousand feet. She was _underground_ the Underground. How was she conscious? She moaned again, sitting up, and spat out the sand caught in her mouth.

She was in some sort of cave. It was just as dark as the oubliette had been, and twice as large. A dimly lit tunnel opened up ahead of the den she'd fallen into, and the steady dripping suggested water was nearby. The walls were solid, black rock, but Sarah reasoned everything looked black in this light. She felt around for a door, or ladder, or something remotely useful but nothing looked like a way back _up._

The tunnel lights flickered. Sarah tried to remember the chant she'd heard, but only 'leave behind' stuck in her head. She hadn't really been focusing; minds get a bit scattered when facing death. Was this part of the Game? She made for the tunnel, still shook up by the drop.

After a few minutes, the dim lights brightened, and the walls shimmered with bits of clear rock. Sarah reached for a large jagged piece, and yelped when the opaque edge drew blood. The walls were littered with _glass_ , not rocks and jewels. Sarah was instantly unnerved; glass didn't form in caves.

"So nice to see you again, Sarah Williams. I was beginning to think you'd given up." The Labyrinth's voice was full of mirth.

An image of the shadowy façade instantly came to Sarah's head, and she froze. That answered her earlier question—the Game hadn't ended here. It was both a relief and a disappointment. She looked around for the shape, but saw nothing but rock and glass.

"I'm not giving up. I've gone too far to quit now."

"And here I was thinking you wanted a wait out. My mistake, perhaps, finding a flaw in Underground law." The voice sighed dramatically. "And even after I helped you land safely…"

Sarah's curiosity prickled. It couldn't be that easy. Rosalyn had been adamant about that. And she didn't fully trust the Labyrinth after that last line in the orchard. It was a dangerous gamble, but the words 'way to leave behind' still echoed strong from the chant.

"You found me a way out?" The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"I've brought you there. Look ahead in the crystals…"

Sarah hadn't noticed any crystals, but she looked ahead all the same. And they were there, spread around the tunnel outcroppings like stars in the night. The tunnel light seemed to erupt from their depths, casting the warm glow which had beckoned Sarah out of the pit she'd fallen into. They weren't all glittering with mist, however, as Jareth's did. Tiny figures could be seen moving inside. Sarah moved closer and looked inside.

A pale girl, a few years younger than herself, was dancing on a stage. Her smile and grace proved she was both confident and talented in her craft. Another crystal held a woman signing book covers at a table, rushing through two copies at a time. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with pride. Farther down was a gymnast bowing to receive her medal and then a heavily made up singer, microphone swaying with the glittering dust inside. Sarah kept looking. Athletes, musicians, models…each were captured in a tiny crystal of light.

"I don't get it. These are just tiny images of people…" Sarah's voice wavered, "…tiny successful people."

"The way out is the way in."

It was so close to her memories from before. Sarah strained to process the hint. "I get out by going in a crystal?"

"Trade your place for another, and you'll be free. Just choose a crystal, Sarah, and you'll be out."

It sounded so easy. It couldn't just be to pick a life and borrow it for an exit, could it? She didn't know these people, they probably weren't even real. What did it matter? She didn't belong here, she was _nothing_ here, and the Labyrinth's out was insanely tempting. To have whatever life she envied without a second thought…Sarah was leaning her arm forwards, eying a costumed woman receive a Tony. Until she really saw her. Her mother.

The jewels and lace had made her almost unrecognizable, but it was definitely her wide smile, her impossibly green eyes and her sleek black hair. It was definitely her strong face and her phony 'oh me?' posture on stage, as if her success was some grand surprise. It never was. Sarah didn't know what to do about seeing Linda Rhodes, formerly Williams, for the first time in five years, but she couldn't just grab her crystal. She was _real,_ this was wrong…

"Mom?" The cry was little more than a whisper.

The Labyrinth was humming coldly in her head, making Sarah shiver as if trapped by an icy sheet, making her see nothing but the white shadow and the glittering crystal before her. Linda was holding her award now, pulling out a crinkled paper from her clutch. Sarah wished she could hear her instead of the cold cloaking her thoughts. The tiny image wasn't enough. Her mother appeared to be reading names, thanking her agent, and her co-stars of course, and the director, and her fiancé, and her supporters, and had she mouthed 'daughter'? Sarah's heart skipped a beat, anger forgotten.

" _Mom?_ " Sarah struggled to keep from breaking down.

She'd only ever wanted acknowledgment; just a token of unconditional love. Proof her mother had actually _cared._ Sarah relished the silent image. Could her mother care in her own strange way?

Could anyone?

It was too much. Sarah snapped her arm to her side, yelling at the air. "That's ENOUGH. I don't WANT these crystals!"

And she ran, knocking the crystals to the ground and she raced through the tunnel. Bits of glass shattered around her feet, cracking against the rough cave walls and dark shadows. She didn't care that she'd been her before hundreds of times, seen the shattering glass haunt her dreams and nightmares. She didn't care at all. She ran. She didn't know what caring meant anymore.

Sarah knew she was running uphill when her legs gave a strain of protest, and she slowed. She hadn't noticed the tunnel had widened considerably, or that the light surrounding her was more natural than magical. But in mere minutes, she had fought her way to the surface. The sun hit her face and shook off the last sheet of cold.

"Well done, Sarah Williams. Envy was no challenge. Perhaps I have underestimated you…" The voice was still cold, but muffled, as if it was being forced far away, and then it was gone.

Sarah was left with her own thoughts; some new, and highly concerning, thoughts about Jareth. And what it meant to care.


	15. Truth in Actions

Sarah Williams had come to the conclusion that everything she was certain about the people in her life was absolutely nothing at all.

She had been walking steadily since her run-in with envy and had yet to encounter any sign of the next task. No challengers, no humming Labyrinth, and no Jareth. Nothing but Sarah and her thoughts. In normal circumstances, the solitude would be glorious. Which was precisely the problem.

She could not possibly be in a more _un-_ normal position. The past three days had been beyond belief. She had been upset by her kidnapping, frustrated by news of this Game, wary of Jareth's intentions, and shocked by her sudden magical prowess. But glimpsing her mother for the first time in five years, and seeing her recognize her daughter, even through a crystal, was one headache too many.

Sarah didn't know what to believe anymore. Her mother had always seemed so distant. She had never sent more than a card on holidays, and hadn't called in years. Sarah was certain it had been her fault; that she had driven Linda from motherhood and back towards the stage. She hadn't been a perfect child. And she still had the moment her mother had left inked into her brain, when Linda hadn't even given her daughter a parting glance as she yelled at her husband all the way to the taxi. Her father had always said Linda wanted a new life—that she wasn't cut out for motherhood—and to not worry because he'd always love her no matter what. At eleven, she'd believed him. Now she wasn't so sure.

If that crystal was a window to reality—and for reasons unknown, Sarah was sure of it—then her mother hadn't forgotten her. No, she had even recognized her in front of the entire country. Linda had thanked Sarah, and hadn't even _mentioned_ her father, a man she'd been married to for fourteen years. What did that mean? Had she grown up living with the wrong reason for her mother's departure?

Had it not been her fault…?

That was the first thing that had come to mind in the cave.

The idea that her mother cared, but simply showed it in her own way, was startling. That it changed her entire view of her childhood was news enough. But as hard as she tried to push the notion down, the suggestion that Jareth's intentions mirrored her mother's was going to drive her mad. She couldn't accept it just like that. What did she really know about his actions? Frowning, Sarah tried to remember.

She knew firstly that he had given her magic. But not just any magic, his magic; _Labyrinthine_ magic. And he had done so against the Labyrinth's own wishes. From the few interactions she'd had with the soul of the maze, she knew next that Jareth was either overconfident or insane to disagree with such a presence. She managed a snort; she was leaning towards insane.

She also knew that the magic had to be 'awakened', per se. A strong burst of emotion was the necessary calling card. And she knew Jareth was aware of this. As a user himself, he had to be. He'd kept her short-tempered ever since she'd returned to the Underground. Whether or not that was truly because he was bothered by her existence, or he was trying to prod the magic along, was the pivotal question. He had sent those gloves, though. She shook her head in frustration, still torn, and moved on.

She knew he'd fed her twice—three times if she included the initial breakfast she'd climbed out a window avoiding—and had definitely dosed her with _something_ unnatural. But each meal had been unnaturally _helpful_ , not poisonous. She'd felt stronger after the cider, and the tea and oats went down smoothly even with her stomach and head churning. In fact, each had calmed her reminders of the wild night before. She hadn't even noticed that then; she'd been too busy with the cave. She remembered now.

Sarah felt something warm turn over in her stomach. _Oh. My. God. There was no way…_

She knew that he could communicate directly with her, a talent she couldn't imagine all Fae possessing, and she knew he'd been upset by her apparent 'disappearance' in the orchard. And that kiss. Sarah gulped. That kiss couldn't be explained by words alone. And she knew he'd wanted to kiss her. Her throat went dry. Oh, he'd made that _quite_ clear.

She knew someone had taken her back to her holding room, and tucked a blanket around her on the couch. And she knew it certainly wasn't Melina or any other Bidder; they had avoided her like the plague at the feast. She froze, heart beating fast as a hummingbird's.

She knew he'd sent her a peach, an intoxicating dream with dancing and his easy serenade. And she knew now what peaches meant; that they signified romantic intentions. Rosalyn had seemed so aghast at her receiving _two_ such tokens that she knew gifts such as hers were rarer than roses in the desert. The reason had been staring her right in the face. How could she have been so dense?

She knew he'd said some startling things after she'd jumped in the Escher Room. Things about fear, and love, and being her slave…she'd never forgotten those words. But she'd thought it all a ploy—the peach, the dance, the lines, _everything_ —just to stop her from saving Toby. She'd been so close to giving in. But he'd played the part of a villain so well it had been impossible to consider otherwise. It wasn't supposed to end that way. The villain never got the girl.

_Unless he wasn't the villain at all,_ she thought. _Unless that was never his intention._

Sir Didymus had mentioned something about intentions. Something about her not reading them right…Sarah collapsed to the ground, mind spinning with an astonishing realization. It was as if all the gears clicked into place at exactly the same time.

_He cared. Jareth, King of the Goblins and lord of God knows what else, cared about me. And it wasn't just a passing fancy. Even Sir Didymus had known. He gave me two peaches…symbols of what? Marriage? Companionship?_

_Love?_

Sarah prayed no one could see her shaking on the ground of the Labyrinth. It wasn't a flattering sight. She was torn halfway between crying and laughing, and her throat put out a strangled gasp. It was impossible, but all the signs were there. He'd been helping her since her return, not plotting against her. She paused, suddenly wondering why he'd been so secretive about it all. The only time he'd commented on… _love_ …had been after the Escher Room and _oh_! Sarah's eyes bulged.

She'd turned him down.

But he couldn't possibly have expected her to say yes, could he? She'd only known him for ten hours, all of which had been spent outwitting his subjects and avoiding his traps. And she'd only been fifteen for God's sake; much too young to understand such an offer. She sighed, concluding that associating with goblins probably skewed his idea of relationships. And women. She'd been right in her pre-cave thinking; he clearly had no idea what he was doing.

The shaking in Sarah's limbs had receded, only to be replaced by the numbness found during appointments at the salon. Sarah slowly rose to her feet. She was still rather shocked by the discovery and was at a loss with what to do next. Call him? Ask him straight up if he loved her? Sarah pushed the notion aside. She couldn't bring herself to even think his name at the moment.

She didn't know what to say if he answered _yes._

She needed to straighten out her own feelings first.

She'd thought she'd hated him, but she couldn't find a twinge of anger left. It had probably been more a defense against _his_ hostility, and since he didn't hate her…Sarah trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

There was always polite tolerance—a short nod here and there and she'd be on her way home, never to bother him or the Underground again. The idea was strangely unappealing. Sarah frowned. She couldn't possibly want to _stay_ here. Not after all of this. Still, the frown remained and Sarah forced herself to keep moving forward, reminded that she was still competing for her life.

_What does that leave? Respect? Friendship? Something more?_ Sarah's stomach did another flop.

_Oh no. No way can I actually_ care _about him._

And that was all Sarah wanted to think on it, stubbornly pushing the pleasant buzz from her mind. The notion was too dangerous and if he was listening in, he'd have a field day. And then she'd really be in trouble. No, she decided firmly, she'd had enough.

It was a rather pointless declaration, however. Realizations were impossible to ignore.

_I need a distraction. Badly. Where are those challenges when you need them?_

She walked faster.

* * *

Eran never knew he could run so fast. But the saying went that in times of need, men are prone to superhuman feats. Perhaps it was true for the Fae as well.

It took him only a few hours to reach the southern gate of the Labyrinth (he was now grateful for the shift the day before) and less to find the shadow of Elder Tower in his sight. By the time he was approaching the front door, the sun was just starting to fall in the afternoon sky. He still had plenty of time. Eran slowed, eager to catch his breath.

As he bowed to the guards outside, and shuffled through the doors, he pieced together all he'd learned in preparation for his meeting. It was a rather complicated story: girl wishes away child, king takes child, girl is taunted by king, girl defies king, king becomes interested in girl, king shows interest to girl, girl defies king again…Eran paused, knowing the facts became scattered sometime after that. He hoped the break between the Goblin City incident and her final defeat of the Goblin King weren't terribly important. The High King would certainly be pleased with what he'd uncovered thus far; one scene couldn't matter _that_ much. Eran frowned, thinking that perhaps he better leave that out anyway. Just in case.

He took the stairs two at a time, nodding to a few familiar faces on his way up. It was quieter than usual in the tower; clearly, most guests were in the Grand Hall. He paused on the floor of the hall, listening to the noise echoing down the corridor. Something exciting seemed to be happening; he'd never heard it this loud. Curiosity winning out, he changed course, telling himself a quick update wouldn't hurt. He still had plenty of time.

The hall was packed with jabbering bodies, some waving kerchiefs in the air, others sacks of coins. Above the heads and limbs was the tally board, and Eran looked eagerly at the remaining competitors. All but five faces had been blacked out. He recognized Lady Melina, and the Elvin girl Rosalyn, and there was Sir Darius in orange, the lanky boy Flynn in blue and in hunter green…He managed a smile. Sarah Williams. She'd made it farther than any other mortal. No wonder the High King had been so urgent. A mortal _winning_ this Game would create uproar. Especially if she was keeping secrets.

Eran suddenly noticed a large shadow had stepped in front of him. He turned towards the familiar face warily.

"Oh! Your Majesty …" He was startled by the narrowing eyes of the Goblin King.

"Been busy, boy? You seem rather disheveled."

Eran pieced together some courage, but his words were rushed. "Just checking in on the competitors. Like everybody else here."

This was exactly why he should have just gone straight to the High King, he thought. The Goblin King seemed to know everything.

"And yet I haven't seen you once since the Game began. I can't imagine what's made you lose track of time." Jareth leered down, clearly suspicious of Eran's—the well-known attendant of Cael's—absence.

Eran had no reply. One of his hands started twitching, and he hurriedly stuffed it in his pocket.

"Just what errand has Cael given you now, hmm? Something _personal?_ "

"Ah, nothing important…" Eran tried to back away, but the Goblin King followed him step for step.

"I do hope not, _boy_. For your sake." He brushed past Eran, elbowing him in the ribs, and out the hall doors. His angry clip-clip of heels chased him through the corridor, and down the stairs Eran had just climbed.

Eran willed his heart to slow. That had been too close. He'd been certain the Goblin King was going to kill him, or at least grind him to ash. The crowd here was perhaps his only savior. The Goblin King clearly knew something was wrong, however. Could that dwarf have contacted him? Told the king it had been his conversation? Eran paled. Gods he hoped not. This would be so much easier if he wasn't connected. He needed to reach the High King. Immediately.

He was out the door before anyone else noticed he had been there.

* * *

The longer Sarah walked, the more she decided that anger was a brilliant distraction. She'd taken to blocking out the warm feeling flooding her stomach by stringing together obscene words with _his_ features. It worked most of the time. Her current favorite was 'his damn mismatched eyes and their stupid, annoyingly bright, glint.' But she couldn't bring herself to think about 'his fucking boots and tights' without groaning. Loudly.

_Where. Is. That. Next. Stage?_

"Sarah? Is that you?" Rosalyn's airy voice broke through the silence.

"Rosalyn?"

"It's about time!" The Elvin girl's rosy face poked out from behind a wall, and she stared open-mouthed at her competitor.

"Are you really Rosalyn?" Sarah couldn't hide her skepticism, memories of the orchard still fresh. "Prove it."

"Pardon? Look, if you don't want company, you can find the next stage yourself." She turned easily, a trace of familiar bitterness in her voice.

That was enough for Sarah. "Wait, it's ok. I just had to check that you weren't…uh, someone else."

"I could ask you the same thing." Rosalyn was mildly accusatory. "I had no idea you were hiding so many secrets."

"Secrets?"

"Oh don't pretend otherwise. Everyone saw you…" She eyed Sarah warily. "…and the Goblin King."

_Oh. THAT._

Sarah winced. That incident was clearly going to haunt her for the rest of the Game. Didn't anybody realize it hadn't been her fault?

Rosalyn didn't wait for a response, but held out a scrap of paper for Sarah to read. "Here. I doubt you've read this yet. Otherwise, you'd have been waiting for me."

_Four sins past and three ahead,_

_But challengers beware._

_When together come the tired five,_

_Proximity brings despair._

_Think not of what you scorn,_

…

The page was torn halfway through the riddle.

"Where's the rest?"

"Melina." Rosalyn gave her a look that answered everything. "She ripped it right from me before I finished it."

"Of course." Sarah wasn't surprised. "Well, where is everybody?"

Rosalyn frowned and pointed the corner she'd just emerged from. "About a minute away. Don't expect a warm welcome. "

Sarah followed close behind as Rosalyn lead on, batting hanging branches out of the way as they walked. Sarah tried to keep her thoughts in check, but the audible roar of voices was making it impossible to think. Minutes ago that would have been a blessing. Now, she needed time to prepare for the inevitable questioning. Irony was a spiteful thing.

"Mortal! _"_

Sarah groaned, fears confirmed. She didn't need this.

"How _dare_ you show your face after your little stunt?" Melina shouted; face matching her awful plum ensemble. "How dare you bewitch the King of the Goblins with your petty charms?"

"Oh shut _up_ ," Sarah yelled. She could care less if she hurt Melina's feelings. She was not at fault here.

Melina didn't respond, her mouth opening and closing as if she was trying to suck words out of the air. But the two challengers behind her certainly did. The man in orange, whom she remembered boasting in the cottage, was trying to cover his smirk, but failing miserably. He settled for a loud forced cough and ignored Sarah's eyes. The other runner, the lanky boy in cobalt blue, had walked over to give Sarah a soft 'thanks' and obvious smile, before settling next to her and Rosalyn.

Sarah could help but notice that sides had been drawn. And she wasn't as hated as Rosalyn had made her think. The warm swell returned to her gut and she managed a half-smile, knowing she was going to be fine. She eyed Melina carefully all the same; she appeared to be coming out of her fish coma.

"Shut _up?_ Shut _UP?_ " She growled, suddenly rushing towards Sarah with shaking arms.

She didn't get far before a loud "BOOM" echoed around them, stopping Melina in her tracks. Sarah snapped her head around, but the sound bounced off the circular walls like acrobats on a trampoline, masking the location of the cry. And nothing _appeared_ to have changed…she stopped before she finished, realizing what was different.

The corridor she'd walked out of had closed; a huge slab of stone seemed to have jumped in front. Sarah swung her head back to the group, and around the stone enclosure, hoping to see another path. But there wasn't even a crack in the arena.

_Oh no. What sins were left? Sloth, lust…_ she stopped. _Wrath! Of course!_

Melina didn't seem to notice that her rush of anger had triggered the change, and she raised her arms again, fury on her face anew, and charged fast at Sarah.

Sarah barely had time to shift to her side before she was tackled by the hurling plum bundle. She hit the ground roughly, hearing her shoulder give a creak of protest. Sarah cried out, pain rushing through her back as Melina pinned her arms to her sides.

"Stop!" Sarah coughed out a cry. "STOP, this is wrath—" Sarah didn't want to lose the Game here because of someone else's stupidity.

"Oh you bet it is you brat, I've had enough of you!" She spat angrily in Sarah's face, and pulled her right hand up the air, twisting golden light on her fingers. Sparks flickered violently off her palm.

Sarah closed her eyes, trying to keep the sparks from burning her sight, but kept struggling against Melina. Their size difference was painfully obvious now, and Sarah couldn't even shift a leg to knock Melina off-balance. Sarah's futile squirming only caused the Fae to push down harder into Sarah's abdomen, as if someone had dropped a sack of bricks only to see how long one could breathe underneath them. Sarah doubted she could last much longer, already gasping for air and barely aware of her legs. It couldn't be long now; she'd either pass out or be blasted to pieces.

Unless someone helped, she prayed vainly. _Oh, please, get her off me._ She tried to force out a 'help!', but it came out as only a sickly wheeze. Sarah hoped it was enough.

But nobody was stepping in to help. Why wasn't someone helping? She had been certain Rosalyn hated Melina just as much as she did, and that lanky boy too. And even in the cottage…Sarah's thoughts were scattered by her need for oxygen. The air tasted stale and bitter, like thick mud. And how was Melina even allowed to use magic against her? Hadn't that been a rule? The light was growing hot behind her closed eyes, and she panicked, trying to break Melina's grasp one last time. Melina shifted, giving Sarah one last gasp of air to yell.

"Stop…STOP… I don't…want…to fight!"

In an instant, the heavy weight on her gut vanished and Sarah heard Melina give a started gasp. The light was still bright, but Sarah forced her eyes open and saw, to her horror, the silvery façade known only as the Labyrinth hovering above her. The soul shimmered for an instant, giving Sarah an oddly significant glance, before darkening to black and floating away from Sarah's face.

"You have both failed this Game stage and the rules, Melina." The Labyrinth's voice seemed eerily pleased. "Farewell."

And all Sarah saw was the black. Melina's pitchy screams were engulfed by a muffled cloud, and then her body had been swallowed by a great black mouth, and then the sky turned to night. The ground seemed to shake in terror and Sarah couldn't close her eyes fast enough to block the terrible scene from her mind.

And just as the cries of the cottage, it was over just as suddenly as it began. Sarah was shaking on the ground, shoulder burning with pain, and heart pounding again. She was vaguely aware of an arm helping her up, and another keeping her back straight while she let her head clear. She had never seen anybody die before. It was a terrifying scene.

"Sarah, are you alright?" Rosalyn sounded concerned. "We didn't think she'd last so long, with wrath being this stage, or we'd have tried to stop her. Sarah? Can you hear me?"

Sarah was still dazed. She thought she had been prepared for the rest of this Game, but, she shuddered, she still had to outlive three others. And that look…The Labyrinth was so angry with her…God what if it just forgot the deal and took her magic?

"SARAH!" The lanky boy shook her arm, hoping to snap her out of it.

Sarah yelped as her hurt shoulder was jarred and finally opened her eyes to the arena. It was day again, and Rosalyn and the lanky boy were holding her up. Unsurprisingly, the man in orange was gone.

"Ah." She winced in pain. "Thanks guys."

"No problem. We couldn't stand her either. I'm Flynn." The boy in blue smiled, almost forgetting Sarah was his competitor too.

"Sarah." She instinctively offered her hand.

"I err…I know." He didn't take it.

Sarah sighed, _of course he knew._ Everybody knew who she was. Damn incident in the hall. She shrugged off his hand and steadied herself. Everything always came back to her and Jareth. It was as if she was already his untouchable property.

"Jareth's not going to beat you for shaking my hand, Flynn."

His eyes bulged, and Rosalyn gave a soft cry at the name.

"Oh forget it. Let's just go." Sarah tried to focus on the two remaining stages, and hurried away.

As strode through a new stone archway and turned left, the pair eyed each other warily, but followed. They didn't know what else to do.

And there was only one path anyway.


	16. Royal Dilemmas

He didn't wait for the attendant to announce his name, rushing instead past the startled guard and into the throne room.

"Sire! I have the information you requested." Eran bowed as he spoke, breathing heavy. He'd raced up nearly ten flights in mere minutes.

The High King had been resting his head on one bent arm, but at Eran's entrance, righted his position and manner. He didn't even scorn the boy's abruptness; his curiosity for news far outweighed propriety. He shooed the guard out with a flick, and he stared down at his messenger, now aware of his labored breathing and ruffled appearance.

"Excellent, Eran! I knew I could count on you. Come, sit, sit. Yes, there you go."

He did, falling into the low chair that materialized behind him. A huff of relief followed, and Eran turned his blue eyes to the High King whom was leaning so far forward in his throne that his crown was sliding off his head. The King didn't bother adjusting it, staring at him with anxious eyes. Eran took this as his cue, and launched into his tale.

"I happened across an interesting dwarf by the name of Hoggle soon after your contact." He inclined his head respectfully. "And he was struck by word of the past champion. He knew Sarah Williams before I could say her name, and I immediately questioned him for any information he had regarding her past visit."

"A dwarf? I thought I ordered you to find the _library._ What could a dwarf possibly know?"

"My thoughts exactly, Your Majesty, but he seemed rather distraught by her mention. I took a chance and encouraged him to speak. I assure you, his information proved worthwhile, and perhaps better than any record of the Goblin King's."

The High King held his tongue, and Eran elaborated. "He proceeded to tell me he had helped Sarah Williams through the Labyrinth."

At this, the King leaned forward once more, and his crown toppled off completely. "Really?" He pushed. "And he could prove this?"

Eran nodded. "He described the girl exactly, and knew her name before I mentioned it. And the story he told me was too detailed to have been a lie. Furthermore, he was…agitated by some parts. Your Majesty, I am certain his account is reliable. I would swear on it."

"Then by all means, my boy, continue, continue…" Cael waved him on, a curious twinkle in his eyes.

And Eran did, beginning with the interruption at the gates, and the girl's quick frustration with the maze. He moved easily to the dwarf's entrance in the oubliette, and the pair's route past the false alarms before stopping before not a beggar, but the King himself. Eran took great care to recount this exactly as the dwarf had; he understood the moment to be the first of many revealing encounters.

"The Goblin King came to check on the girl, something Hoggle seemed concerned by. His Majesty wanted to know if Sarah was enjoying his Labyrinth. This, the dwarf claimed, was peculiar enough but apparently, the King ignored her right of personal space in doing so."

"Oh?" The interest in his face was obvious. "He kept close to her? How interesting…yes, Eran go ahead." The High King saw his attendant open his mouth as if to interrupt, and again waved him on.

"Thank you, sire. Not only did he keep close, but his words were almost flirtatious in manner. The dwarf didn't comment on this when I suggested so, but the king took her stubborn reply and turned it back in equal measure. He then proceeded to shorten her time limit, all the while in obvious amusement of the situation. Hoggle never mentioned His Majesty becoming angered by her reply. Annoyed by her defiance, perhaps, but not angered. And forgive me sire, but I have never known him to pass at a chance to demonstrate his authority."

"Yes, Jareth is usually rather proud of his position. That does sound odd."

Eran continued. "He did, however, make one other move besides the clock. The dwarf called it 'the cleaners', but I understood it as a metal dilapidation on wheels. More bark than bite, as it were, and the dwarf and girl found a ladder out of the tunnels seconds later." He paused. "It is not my place to comment, but I was struck by the closeness of that escape when the previous hour in the caves offered nothing. Hoggle said it was luck; I assume otherwise."

The High King kept still an inquisitive eye on his attendant, but his mind was elsewhere, processing the habits of the Goblin King in haste. Why, he thought, would Jareth put up such a weak defense? Why let her continue so easily? For compared to the tests of the Game—the same Labyrinth in essence—her first run sounded like child's play. It was almost as if he _wanted_ her to win. He frowned, knowing something was wrong.

"Sire?" He waited for another silent signal, and proceeded, telling the High King of the Wise Man, and the hedge maze where the dwarf had left the girl while she chased the roar of a rock-caller. He acknowledged the break in the story, when the dwarf had wandered off alone for some time, until he was visited by the Goblin King again.

"Hoggle said that the king seemed…agitated that the dwarf had befriended the girl. He caused him some embarrassment by claiming Hoggle was undeserved, actually. The king is, of course, free to speak to his subjects, but I found this unnecessarily rude. Almost as if he were jealous of the dwarf. And then came the strangest part of the story. The King gave the dwarf a peach."

Cael shot up in his seat. "A peach? For the dwarf?"

"For the girl."

"Impossible. The dwarf must be lying."

"I would have thought so, had the specific fruit not been a slip of the tongue."

"And the dwarf delivered this peach to the girl?" Cael's eyes narrowed.

"After the threats and persistence the king employed, the dwarf felt he had no choice. The king…ah, appeared once more as the dwarf attempted to toss the fruit. Scared him into compliance."

A cold silence fell across the room, leaving Eran unsure what to say. The High King wasn't moving, face steady and straight as the tower itself, but his eyes burned into Eran as if all the heat in the room had settled there. Eran was torn between running and falling to his knees, but managed to keep still. He'd never seen the High King so angry; he was usually in good-spirits no matter the dilemma. This, he realized, was more serious a matter than first assumed.

"And did she eat the peach?"

"Yes." It was all Eran could force out, his composure melting under the King's stare. He had thought the Goblin King to be intimidating but this, _this_ was enough to send a demon to tears. He had to finish this story now, and get out of here before that ire was taken out on him instead of the Goblin King.

He swallowed. "The dwarf said he met back with her at the Goblin City, and the group—"

"Is there any issue more illuminating than the peach, boy?"

"No, sire."

"Then you are excused. _Now._ "

Eran found that he could indeed run faster than that morning, but not fast enough to block out the murderous yell from the throne room.

" _JARETH!"_

* * *

Sarah stopped abruptly, swearing she'd heard a voice in the air. A glance back to her companions showed no sign that they'd heard a thing; both were whispering quickly, one palm shielding her from reading their lips. They were, Sarah groaned, of course speaking about _her._ As if she wouldn't notice.

"Am I really that interesting?"

The pair stopped, dropping their hands to their sides and trying to pull innocent expressions. At Sarah's knowing look, Rosalyn at least had the decency to blush.

"You could say that…" she trailed off.

"Hmph. I'm guessing runners aren't groped by kings every time this Game takes place?"

Rosalyn's blush deepened, and Flynn, even standing still, stumbled a bit.

"That's a no, then?"

"Sarah, how well acquainted are you with the Goblin King?" Flynn cut it, saving Rosalyn from answering.

Sarah had been expecting this question. She was actually astonished it wasn't the first thing out of their mouths. It would have been her first question had she been in their position. How well could she possibly know Jareth to have him kiss her like that in the middle of a crowd? She was a one-time runner; a foolish girl who wished away her younger brother. She didn't live in the Underground and wasn't even a member of the same species. Honestly, the more she thought about it, the crazier it sounded. And yet, here she was, acknowledging the impossible.

"We spent thirteen, well, ten really, hours together. Not _together_ together, but I ran the Labyrinth, he tried to distract me, and I beat him and I thought that was it. That's all, really. Ten hours. Well, ten hours and then this. That's it." She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't stop herself. She was still confused as to why Jareth seemed to care; they barely knew each other and their first encounter hadn't been on great terms.

"Did the king give you a peach?"

Now _that_ she had not been expecting. She stumbled over her words, refusing to look at Flynn's curious face. "Ah, Hoggle did actually, but yeah, he said it came from him—"

" _I told you so,"_ whispered Rosalyn. In response, Flynn drew back, brow creased. He appeared unsettled.

"Hmm. Rosalyn, we'd better keep moving." He stole a glance at his partitioned watch. "Darius can't be far ahead. Sarah, best of luck. Not that you'll need it."

"Hey, wait! What the hell does that mean?" Sarah moved to catch his arm, shoulder flaring in warning.

"It's not your fault, Sarah, we don't blame you," Rosalyn finally spoke up, "but we obviously want to live, and we don't stand a chance running with you. Not if you are involved with the Keeper of the Game."

"We are not involved!" Sarah was scandalized. "I was hungry! I would have eaten anything! And he kissed _me_ —"

"Yet you didn't seem terribly upset by it."

"I was in shock! Jareth surprised me!"

Flynn gave Rosalyn a nervous glance.

"And _why_ do you keep twitching when I say his name? Jareth, Jareth, JARETH!" Sarah knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't stand the looks her companions were giving. It wasn't like she was laughing during a funeral.

"He's a king," spoke Rosalyn, as if that answered everything.

"He's not _my_ king."

"So you claim."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest again, but closed it without a sound. Who was she kidding? They seemed too stubborn to change their minds, and she was running out of excuses. It was hard to deny the fact that he had given her a peach, and shamelessly made out with her the day before. Sarah felt her cheeks warm. No, she conceded, arguing was a lost cause.

She couldn't help but sigh; it appeared she'd be alone for the rest of the way. She'd thought them on her side back at the wrath task, but clearly, it was just the side opposing Melina. She'd just been the lesser of two evils. Sarah gave Eran and Rosalyn a halfhearted wave and watched them turn off into a long, moss covered corridor without another thought. They made no effort to hide their return to whispering. And within moments, Sarah was alone. Again.

"Just two stages," she muttered, "two stages and then I deal with Jareth."

* * *

Jareth was quite aware that his name had been called incessantly for the past hour, but he didn't dare respond. The first enchanting culprit he hoped could manage without his presence; nervous as he was, she'd proved herself thus far. The second bothersome voice was the real reason he'd restrained from answering the first. If Cael wanted to see him back so soon, it meant nothing but bad news. He cursed. And as he could not afford to arouse more suspicion, Sarah would have to finish the Game on her own.

The king felt a familiar vibration against his chest, and pulled his amulet off in frustration. Cael was growing impatient. For the umpteenth time in his reign, Jareth was grateful to have an unsolvable maze as a defense.

He straightened. Just how _had_ Cael found out? Certainly through that brat of an errand boy, but _how?_ His Labyrinth was all but impenetrable to outsiders, and none of his subjects would have dared seek out the High King, especially not to spill secrets. The goblins were too spineless for that. And nobody but him knew the full extent of his history with Sarah.

_Unless…_ he shot up from his throne, concerned. _He couldn't have…_

Quick as a fox, the King of the Goblins ran out the door and into the hallway, boots clicking against stone as he raced up two flights of stairs to the highest room in the castle, and unlocked the door with the toss of a crystal. He noted the standing enchantment; if anyone had entered, they had done a flawless job in replacing the protections.

He moved to the records, thumbing through page after page of pathetic attempts until he found it. Her file. He pulled it from the shelf and onto his desk, throwing it open in the process.

_Sarah Williams, Champion_

_Answered call from fifteen-year old girl who wished away her younger brother..._

He fell into his desk chair, sighing in relief. At least nobody had taken the record. The only other option would have been to duplicate it. Jareth furrowed his brow, considering the likelihood of such a foolish move, before replacing Sarah's file and the room's enchantment, and hurrying back down the staircase. He needed to find Sir Didymus; the knight had been on guard during his absence.

"Didymus!"

He waited only a moment before a high growl echoed through the hallway.

"Your Majesty! I hadn't noticed your return. How is the fair maiden?"

"Resilient, as expected. Didymus, have any foreigners entered the castle during my leave? A boy, perhaps?"

The small fox shook his head. "Certainly not, sire. Nothing has torn me from my watch of the castle gates!"

"And the Labyrinth, who is on duty by the outer gates?"

"Only the best, sire. Sir Aramis in the East, Sir Regis in the West, Wren in the North, and Lars in the South. No disturbances reported."

Jareth's lip curled at hearing the last name. "Lars is hardly my best."

"Be that as it may, Hoggle would have reported—"

Jareth's eyes narrowed. "Hoggle is on duty? Near Lars?" His voice was edging lower with each word.

At Sir Didymus' nod of affirmation, Jareth cursed under his breath. He had been mistaken about solely possessing knowledge of his time with Sarah; that dwarf had practically seen and heard _everything_. He'd even given Sarah the peach. Jareth ground his teeth, growling. If that little scab had spilled his story…

He had to be located.

"I will find him myself. Return to your post, Didymus."

Sir Didymus eyed his king nervously, noting the predatory gleam in his mismatched eyes and the sneer of his lips. And in a swirl of glitter, Didymus found himself standing alone in the hallway wondering what his noble friend could have done to anger the king. Whatever it was, he decided, meant serious trouble.

* * *

Every five minutes or so, Sarah would glance at her watch, only to see the same three colors remaining; the blue, pink, and orange set off the ugly black sections like jewels in the rock.

It had barely been half an hour, Sarah reasoned, so the next stage couldn't have begun. She glanced down again. No change. But the castle was looming closer and closer with every step; she could see the edge of the Goblin City over the hill. With two stages still to go, she was running out of room. There were supposed to be two sins left.

She couldn't help but wonder how sloth and lust would fit in. Sloth, she decided, shouldn't be an issue; she wasn't one to slack off.

It was lust she was concerned about.

Had it been the first stage of the Game, she would have barely spared it a second thought. She was career-driven, damn it. Romance and boys and sex were forced deep in the recesses of her mind. Distractions, she'd deemed them. Nothing more than a waste of time.

She wasn't a prude, obviously. She _was_ a college student. Of course she'd dated, even fooled around a bit. She'd flirted with guys, allowed them to take her to dinner, the movies, to the park, but never allowed it to escalate past some shameless moves in a car. It just never felt right.

She played it off as loving acting more than any man. And that was that. She didn't regret her choices. She didn't pine for a physical relationship—even though Kate tried to convince her otherwise.

This was before the dreams began, of course.

But even then, her twisted dreams had not been sexual in nature, just beautifully disturbing. Ballrooms and shadows and shattered glass. Voices she could hear, but never locate. And the hint of a man, shining eyes and silken hair. Nothing more than a glimpse of a fantasy.

Then she'd been kidnapped, and the dreams had escalated. Become clearer; less shadow, more substance. She'd known then that something was wrong. She'd never given in to heady desires in a dream. Ever.

If she'd been honest, and hadn't tried to stuff the images into the familiar recess of her mind, perhaps she would have been better prepared. Willing to face her feelings. But she wasn't; she hadn't known how she felt. She hadn't wanted to know. It didn't matter anymore.

She'd had plenty of time to think about it now. Her realization about Jareth made certain of that.

_Two stages to go, two stages to go_ , Sarah chanted the mantra over and over. Lust was going to be a bitch.

She stumbled down a hill, throwing her arms back to catch her balance, and turned her attention to her surroundings. Now was not the time to lose focus. Her shoulder gave a twinge of pain as she steadied and stifled a sudden yawn.

For some reason, she'd assumed the path here would look just as it was five years before, but not a trace of the junkyard remained. The land was green, flourishing as if tended to by Mother Nature herself. Flowers in a dizzying array of shades and smells grew in clumps all around her feet and she took care not to flatten any, but the sheer number made it more than challenging. Thick thorny vines and rolls of ivy draped stones like emerald cloaks and spindly trees took the place of stone walls in guiding her forwards. The comparison to the outer walls was shocking; not a trace of a crumbling wall or speck of dust could be seen through the part-forest, part-stone maze.

She couldn't stop the urge to yawn again, and she shook her head to keep awake. The calm, fruity smell of the forest was clearly doing more harm than good.

The gates of the Goblin City inched closer and closer. Still, there was no trace of a stage. She glanced down a third time in as many minutes at her watch but nothing had changed. Rosalyn, Flynn, and Darius were still running around somewhere. She grimaced, she had to finish the Game first. She yawned again.

There was a low lying sign some feet ahead, mere steps from the gates, and she moved to it. It was barely legible, but she made out the crooked letters and poor spelling as 'The Goblin City: Visitors Unwelcome'. She cracked a smile; she was here. Perhaps the final two stages were inside the city? She was just about to push open the gates when she heard a rumble behind her.

A flash of orange was rushing down the hill from a second, tree-lined path. Sarah put a name to the figure instantly, and grimaced; Darius. He raced past her, panting like he'd run a marathon, and rammed into the gates.

"Open up! Open up, damn it!" He shook the metal like a madman. He looked utterly exhausted.

"What's going on?"

"Vines—the others—barely got away."

He wasn't making any sense. " _What?_ "

"Flynn and the girl, Rosalyn, trapped by vines. I barely escaped."

"Where?"

Darius jutted his hand back in the direction he'd come from, yawned loudly, and resumed his battering. The gates clanged angrily under his weight, but didn't budge.

Sarah's stomach turned. Rosalyn. Flynn. They had seemed so capable, and they'd wanted to win so badly. The brutality of the Game caught up to Sarah in a moment and she clenched her lips tight.

_It wasn't fair._

Darius cursed louder beside her, throwing his body into steel.

_It just wasn't fair. Why did they have to die? Why could only one runner emerge?_

Darius sank to the ground, back against the gates, completely out of breath. He'd given up on his attempt. He let loose a third wide yawn, obviously exhausted.

Sarah made a split second decision. She had gone crazy, she was sure of it, but she couldn't just sit on her lazy ass and wait for them to be strangled to death. It wasn't right. She turned to where Darius had pointed, and ran.

"Hey," Darius yawned, "where are you going?"

"To help!"

"You're insane, mortal. Just wait here…" he moaned, voice thick with fatigue.

Sarah was already too far away to respond, racing into the new path and towards certain peril. Bramble fell into her face, her neck, her arms, biting the sensitive skin. She brushed it away like the tears in her eyes and moved faster. She couldn't just let them die. They'd become important without even trying.

A large part of her feared that she'd never get there in time. Not that she'd find them too late, but that she'd never make it down this path, and past the vines, alive. The route was dripping with a dark magic; she could feel it hiss and crack in the fading light. She wasn't sure why her initial path hadn't hinted of danger, but besides the sweet smells, none of the vines had as much swayed in the wind.

Sarah picked up her pace. The vines were growing thicker the deeper in she went, wrapping around the trees like monstrous snakes. Sarah half-expected one to uncoil and lunge at her throat, but not a leaf trembled in the warm air.

Something like lightning flashed across the sky, and all hell broke loose.

She heard them first, a garbled mix of soprano and baritone which pierced through the otherwise silent dusk.

Rosalyn. Flynn. They were still alive.

And then she saw it, and every fiber in her being urged her to flee, to turn around and forget she'd ever known the steely girl and cautious boy. To let them stay there, clenched by darkness, and wait patiently with Darius. To rest against the gates until they opened…to slumber…

She made a choice, and ran.


	17. Hurried Warnings

Sarah ran, charging fast at the creature trapping Rosalyn and Flynn.

From any outsider's view, it was a decidedly foolish move. Sarah was armed only with an old sack, a feeble grasp of magic, and an inexplicable disregard for danger. Yet she stood her ground, taking in her challenge.

In a word, it was monstrous. The great green mass was a tangle of sharp pins and pricks, twisting and flailing, and the red sky cast the façade of a great burning brush. A stream of bad eggs and compost wafted through the air, causing Sarah's eyes and nose to burn with equal intensity. Sarah knew without a doubt that it came from the demonic plant. It was as if comic shop Seymour's 'Audrey II' and Godzilla had met, fallen in love, and created a biological nightmare: one which Poison Ivy would have squealed with delight over. There was no kinder comparison.

Two small figures could be seen flailing with surprising force high above the path of trees, one pale pink and blonde, the other thin and blue. Thick cords bound their arms, legs, and torso, but both pushed against the vines. It was clear neither was ready to give in, but Sarah knew they could not fight forever. Nobody was that powerful.

A large snap greeted Sarah's feet, and she jumped back out of the great plant's reach.

She let her instincts take over. There wasn't time for a plan. She needed to take action, do _something_. What a horror it would be to find them and just watch them suffocate to death. Heart racing, Sarah banished the thought. There wasn't time to panic. There wasn't time to be melodramatic.

Her hands found the straps of her bag on their own, ripping the bindings off like wrapping paper and rifling inside. Kerchiefs. Gloves. Golden arrow. Knife. Crystal. Everything was dumped out.

Rosalyn and Flynn spotted Sarah on the ground, and yelled louder.

"SARAH!"

"DO SOMETHING!"

Her mouth replied for her, screaming back a promise. And her hands kept flying.

The gloves jumped onto her fingers, the kerchiefs flew away, the crystal rolled into her palms. Light and fire danced within the sphere and Sarah's eyes flicked between the silver and green without seeing.

_Work. WORK._ Sarah focused like never before on goading a spark.

She didn't think, she _felt._

Angry at being dragged back to the Underground against her will. Being tricked, scorned, ignored, and disregarded. Bewildered by a mysterious Game of deathly proportions, that she was worthy, that she was gifted with magic, that _he_ cared. Cautious around all faces, never fully trusting, revealing her true past to nobody. Determined to make it out alive, to save Rosalyn and Flynn, to confront Jareth face-to-face. Enticed. Fascinated. Grateful.

The crystal's light flared wild for an instant, and settled.

Sarah's thoughts took over for an instant, and she blinked, not knowing where those last feelings had come from. There was no time for pleasant emotions; she needed something quick and powerful. Feral. Wild. Untamed. Once more, she let her instincts guide her.

Hopeful that she'd see the end of the Game, the castle, the king. Intrigued by the Underground, by the magic, by the Fae, by Jareth, by _everything_.

The crystal burned red, flashing with the shine of a thousand rubies, and she turned it to the green mass. It took all of Sarah's concentration not to drop it as she willed it to turn, willed it to burst across the already blood red sky. But the glitter faded to silver without action.

Momentarily confused, she forced herself to think instead of feel.

_Why wasn't it releasing? The crystal flared just like in the orchard. Why. Wasn't. It. Working?_

Sarah hands took over again, rolling crystal across her palms, memorizing every shining inch of its magic. Even gloved in leather, her fingers found the problem.

The crystal was flawed.

It was just a tiny, hairline crack. So small it was nothing but an iridescent scar upon glass. But it was there and it seemed to matter. It mocked her. Insignificant, but so significant.

Sarah knew what must have happened even before her fingers opened and let the glass fall. Melina's charge had damaged more than her shoulder, it had cracked her one hope of rescue. The numb throb in her arm was nothing compared to the emptiness beginning to fill her chest. Could she focus her magic without it? Could she work beyond a crystal, like she had in the oasis? It had been so wild then; a beast that would never come if called. She had to try.

Thinking had no purpose. She felt.

She could sense it tucked deep inside, hidden from searching eyes and greedy minds. Hidden in a place beyond words. Hidden in a place she locked from the world. Of course she knew how to find it; she put it there.

She'd been focusing so much on hard emotions. Anger. Caution. Determination. She hadn't even considered something softer, warmer. Something stronger.

_Love._

Sarah blew the lid off the box.

Expectations are a funny thing. However long one tended to them, let them grow more defined and pronounced, they never quite seemed to pan out. And although Sarah had had very little time to predict the outcome of her attack, the result was anything but her expectations.

She expected the warmth bursting from her body to ensnare the biological nightmare. She expected it to burn, moan, shrivel, explode with the raw force she unleashed. For it had been leashed; a wild animal of the heart. Now that she had accepted it, she couldn't imagine ever chaining it again. She expected this revelation to not just defeat but _destroy_ the great green tangle before her. She expected Rosalyn and Flynn to fall to the ground, flailing as she had in the dark cave, and land at her feet. It was to happen; she expected nothing less.

When it didn't, she was of course caught off-guard.

The green tangle had frozen. The flailing tentacles were caught poised above the air, knotted in impossible angles and lines, and Rosalyn and Flynn sported identical looks of surprise. They too were as still as stone, as if the vines wrapping their bodies were more Medusa than plant. Sarah's mouth dropped in awe, and she cautiously took a step forward. Had it worked?

"I can not begin to understand you, Sarah Williams. Stubborn. Defiant. Set up so simply to fail sloth, yet you did not wait by the gates."

Sarah spun around wildly, searching out the Labyrinth.

"You would fight for them?" The voice was quiet and questioning, as if considering some great puzzle. Still, it remained hidden from view.

"Yes."

There was a long pause. Almost so long as to assume it had left. Sarah took an uneasy step backwards.

A soft phrase floated suddenly through the air. "Yet they are not of your world. They are your competition." The Labyrinth shimmered into existence, feet before Sarah, and tilted its head to one side.

"They deserve to live."

"Even when only one can succeed?"

"That can't mean only one can _live_ ," Sarah pushed. Even now, she refused to accept such barbaric ideals. "What happens if more than one person makes it past all seven stages?"

The Labyrinth didn't answer, but tilted its head to the other side, still perplexed by Sarah's actions.

A line came to Sarah, clear as the shape before her. "Jareth said that the choice is obvious because only one ever makes it out alive, not that only one _can_ make it out alive."

"You would risk your life on speculation?"

She paused only a second. "Yes."

"You are an interesting creature, Sarah Williams, to ask forgotten questions and dwell on dreams. Inexplicable." Another tilt of a head, a creasing of silver on brows. "But just as he."

And without elaboration, the shimmer was gone.

Sarah was left staring at the spot previously occupied by the soul, deep in thought. So deep, he didn't even notice as the green tangle began to untangle, lowering Rosalyn and Flynn to their feet. She didn't notice that each had snapped out of their stillness, and were hastily brushing needles off their tunics. Nor did she realize they were walking towards her, faces plastered with looks of amusement and gratitude.

_What_ , thought Sarah, _did that possibly mean? Forgotten questions? Just as whom? Jareth?_

It was not difficult to see that a change had come over the Labyrinth. Its eyes had been questioning, it's words uncertain. It was a look Sarah never expected to see. She snorted, seeing yet _another_ expectation which didn't pan out. Sarah had been ready for hostility, particularly since she'd not only defied sloth, but the Labyrinth's meddling. Instead, she'd received calm confusion and, dare she say it, mild acceptance? It was almost too good to be true.

She still had questions, but without the shadow's presence, they would have to wait. Especially since her heart was thumping with her recent acknowledgment. _Love. She_ loved _him._ It'd had been there for some time, pushed to obscurity, but undoubtedly true. And there was no way to put it back. Her subconscious scoffed, _like you'd want to._

"Sarah, are you alright?"

Sarah blinked. "Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine Rosalyn. But you…are you ok?"

Flynn had the audacity to chuckle, and Rosalyn whacked him on the arm. "We're both fine; it was your task. We already completed our sloth stages so the vines couldn't truly harm us, just make it seem as such."

Sarah groaned emphatically. "And here I was blasting it with all the magic I could find."

"Not that it wasn't spectacular, because it was." She gave Sarah another questioning glance. "But a simple action, like slicing with your dagger, would have been enough. The secret to sloth is action. _Any_ action." She ended with a smirk.

Flynn chuckled again, signaling them both to follow as he turned towards the castle, and Sarah pursed her lips at him.

"Not nervous Jareth will hunt you down anymore?"

"After what you did for us back there, I'll take my chances. If you really were involved with the Goblin King and the Game, you'd have left us." He grinned. "And I'm all for a fair last stage."

Sarah didn't have the heart to correct him. But that answered her question of whether, although frozen, Rosalyn and Flynn had heard her familiar discussion with the Labyrinth. Conclusion: a big fat _no._ Obviously, when the Labyrinth wanted to block out unwelcome eyes and ears, it could. And did.

Rosalyn copied Flynn's signal, and Sarah followed.

The gates to the Goblin City were wide open when Sarah approached them for the second time, and she eyed the large scorch mark on the ground with a sigh; Darius hadn't bothered to overcome sloth. Even with her increased odds, she couldn't help but feel remorse. In a better world, nobody would have died. In a perfect world, the Game wouldn't exist at all.

Rosalyn and Flynn didn't spare the mark a glance. Already they were wandering into the dilapidated city, faces hard and steps determined. Sarah gave one last sigh, and hurried to catch up.

* * *

"I've waited long enough, Amarette. If Jareth refuses to show his face, I'll end this mockery myself!"

"Dear, I admit that the situation is peculiar, but there is no law against a Fae propositioning a mortal, even with a peach—"

The High King fixed her a meaningful stare. "Eran said she _ate_ the peach. She _accepted_ the proposition. She cannot be allowed to run under Jareth's watch!" He growled to the air. "The situation is unacceptable! No challenger is permitted such an advantage! She must be disqualified!"

"That seems rash, Cael. I cannot imagine the girl knew what she was agreeing to. And if anyone is to blame, it is Jareth. Furthermore, she's hardly shown signs of an advantage. She's encountered, and struggled through the stages just as the others."

"Then tell me why, for the third time, she disappeared from view during a task? Most significantly, two of three challenges after that incident in the hall!" he rounded on his wife, fury in his face. "How do we know she even completed them? What if she's fooling us all?" He waved off his wife as she attempted to answer. "And HOW did she acquire all that magic if she's following Underground Law?"

Amarette closed her mouth and furrowed her brow. She too had wondered the same point.

"I will not be made a fool of in my kingdom, Amarette. I'm putting an end to this."

The queen sighed, realizing there was no convincing her husband otherwise. If there was one rule he lived by, it was maintaining, and following, Underground Law. The kingdom would be uncontrollable without it. "And how will you accomplish that? She has only one task remaining." She was almost afraid to ask.

"I may not be able to find Jareth, but I assure you, I'll find her. _Before_ she completes it. " His tone made no mistake of that.

Amarette was wise enough not to doubt her husband. If he had to, he'd charge in on the stage itself to throw her out. She silently prayed it didn't come to that. Overcoming lust, particularly after recent history, was certain to be an impossible enough task. With two problems, the poor girl wouldn't know what hit her.

Without another word, Amarette watched her husband vanish in a flash of gold light. There was no stopping him now. She sat in solemn silence for several minutes, continuing to think of the spirited girl who'd captured her attention. She had been so certain there would finally be a mortal victor.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty. There's a boy here to see you. He says it's urgent."

"See him in, Malik," she spoke without looking up. Perhaps a return to normalcy would distract her.

"Queen Amarette." The voice was hesitant. "I was wondering what is to become of the Lady Sarah. I…delivered the information and cannot help but feel responsible."

According to proper tradition, such a question was unheard of; subjects did not inquire about the personal actions of their ruler. The High King would have rather been thrown straight in the dungeons, hung by his toes, and swarmed by pixies before explaining his whims. Luckily for Eran, Queen Amarette followed different standards.

"Cael's gone to end her run, Eran. He's determined to have her disqualified." Amarette couldn't hide the grief in her voice.

"But Sarah couldn't have known about the peach; she's from Above! If it's anyone's fault, it's the Goblin King's." All propriety went out the window as Eran moved to the Queen and touched her arm. "This isn't right."

Agreement was all it took. Amarette raised her head, stared straight at Eran, and steeled herself. She may not have been able to stop her husband, but that didn't mean she couldn't try and warn the girl.

She leaned back in her throne, bringing a hand to rest under her chin. "Eran, if you wish to help the Lady Sarah, then perhaps there is more we can do."

"Anything, Your Majesty." He remembered well the promise he'd made to himself to watch over her. Eran clenched his fists tight, knowing now was the time to live by those words.

"Find the dwarf Hoggle once more, and explain the situation. No doubt if he possessed information on her run, and frequently encountered Jareth, he knows how to reach him." She sighed. "He is the only other soul who can enter the Game now and live to speak on it. And perhaps he can reason with Cael before he disqualifies the girl."

"But I'll never make it in time. It took me at least a day—" he started.

"Hoggle was near the Southern Gate?" She watched Eran nod, and abruptly twisted her right fingers to bring forth a blur of light. "I can send you just outside that gate, perhaps even right inside." At Eran's astonished stare, she smiled. "There's a reason I'm High Queen."

And Eran disappeared.

He landed roughly against a wall, but it was far better than he expected. True to her word, the queen had sent him just inside the Southern Gate. He recognized the path by the 'S' shaped cluster of eye moss and smattering of strange silver flowers which smelled of honey and vanilla. That he'd walked the path twice in the past day didn't hurt either.

Of course, the panicked grumble of a familiar dwarf in itself was a dead giveaway.

Eran jumped as soon as he heard Hoggle yelp and carefully rose to his feet, making sure not to let his boots clop against the stone. The dwarf sounded downright terrified, as if it just been delivered an invitation to Death's doorstep, and Eran strained his ears for a more realistic reason. Surely, one of the Labyrinth's beasts would not attack its own…

" _What did you tell him Hoggle?"_

Eran blanched. He should have known the Goblin King would already be here; he knew everything that occurred in his Labyrinth.

On one hand, he admitted, his task of warming Sarah just became far easier. Unfortunately, with the blatant malice laced through the King's words, and the poor dwarf's reaction, his entrance would not be welcomed. Errand or not, he _was_ to blame for the High King's decision. He sighed and stepped from his hiding place.

"Nothing that couldn't have been learned otherwise."

The king's reaction was immediate. " _You._ You are incredibly foolish to show your face, boy." He dropped his grip on the dwarf's neck, and turned towards Eran in a blind rage, sparks flicking from his fists.

Eran watched Hoggle scuttle back against the hedges as if his life depended on it. Which, he concluded, it probably did. The poor dwarf's eyes and mouth were round as saucers, considerbly larger than assumed possible, and he was shaking uncontrollably. Eran couldn't help but twitch in sympathy. This would only be a temporary distraction. He turned back to the Goblin King warily. And as he watched the king prowl closer, Eran couldn't help but shuffle back a few steps of his own. Why was he approaching the king again? There was a good reason, surely…

"You have precisely three seconds to explain to me why the fuck you delivered my private matters to the High King," Jareth hissed, eyes flashing. " _One."_

"Sarah—High King—find her—" Eran's words were choked by the hand clenched around his throat.

"I'd speak more clearly if I were you. _Two._ "

"High King—Sarah—disqualified—"

Jareth abruptly let him go, not noticing as Eran fell over, coughing violently and sucking in gasps of breath. " _What?"_ His voice was ice.

"The High King," he coughed again, "has gone to disqualify her," another heavy gasp, "for cheating. He went in person." His eyes widened as the Goblin King moved to strangle him once more. "Wait! The High Queen sent me! I'm on your side, trying to help you warn her!"

Jareth's eyes narrowed, and he fisted his sparking hands. "And _why_ this sudden change of morals?"

"I never meant to get her killed. It was follow the High King's orders or, or, well, nothing!" He put forth his best attempt at groveling. "Please, Your Majesty, there's no time to argue. Sarah needs to be warned!"

Even Jareth couldn't disagree with that last statement. Pursing his lips, he quieted for a moment, considering his next move. _The idiot boy could be dealt with later_. He gave Hoggle a thin glare. _As could the damn dwarf. But not Sarah._

"If either of you move a _toe_ while I'm gone, you will spend the last moments of your lives hoping for a swift death."

Hoggle and Eran gulped in turn, and watched the Goblin King fade in a hot blast of light.

Neither even twitched.

* * *

Sarah found the goblin-less Goblin City beyond disturbing.

That was not to say that she _liked_ the goblins. Yes, she admitted, they were funny and loyal, if not overzealous, and definitely had their own charm. And sure, they were kind of cute if you squinted a little. And fine, they were much better company than some of the other Fae she'd met and…oh who was she kidding, she missed the little troublemakers. "Hello?" Sarah craned her head for a glimpse, but her eyes traced only the cobbled streets and crumbling homes.

"Who are you talking to?" Rosalyn shot her a curious look.

Sarah could only sigh. "Nobody."

Rosalyn waved her closer, and Sarah let herself trail just behind her new friends as they meandered through the streets, looking in deserted shop windows and pulling back tattered drapes. Every so often, Sarah thought she heard the whisper of a question on the wind, but never made out the words. But she knew it was there; her skin prickled when she knew she was being watched. Goblins or not, the city was _alive_. Perhaps they were the whispers of runner's past, trapped for eternity within the maze. Or perhaps they were the Labyrinth itself, just tempting her to spill her secrets, to explain her actions so as to gain the upper hand. Sarah pretended not to hear the whispers. The final stage was no time to let the soul 'know thine enemy'.

Sarah lost track of time. Rooms and doors ran together with their gray emptiness, and she craved a break from the hot stale air which trapped the place. _Why are they being so thorough?_ She let Rosalyn and Flynn lead the way, even as a tiny part of her urged her to speak up that she _knew_ this place, and that any end could only be the castle. It was only fitting to have traveled so far just to reach the same destination.

Eventually, not a door had been unopened, and no drape not drawn back. Only then were her companions satisfied that 'lust' was not found in the Goblin City. Sarah resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"The castle, then?" Flynn didn't smile, his eyes glazed with a strange look.

_Fear_ , Sarah realized with a jolt. That was why they had combed the city; it was the lesser of two evils. Here she was, letting them lead her when, as far as she knew, only she had been inside the foreboding Goblin King's castle. This was her turn to lead; she had already braved this unknown.

"C'mon."

Reluctantly, they followed.

Up staircases and down corridors, through archways and around corners. Like the Goblin City, the castle was eerily quiet. Sarah tracked the clip of her boots on stone, Rosalyn's light scuffle and Flynn's even clop close behind. Neither spoke.

Sarah was glad; the questioning whispers still caressing her ears were words enough.

She stopped before a familiar door without even knowing how she'd gotten there. The name _Sarah Williams_ had been painted in a golden flourish upon the dark wood, and the very thought of what, or whom, lied behind the door sent a shiver down her spine.

She thought she heard the sound of one, then two, other doors opening and closing but she wasn't sure. She couldn't seem to turn her sight from her name on the wood; it beckoned like a drug.

There were no options.

Sarah pushed her door open, and stepped inside.


	18. When Dreams Become Reality

The room was darker than she remembered.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the shadows climbing up the tapestry laden walls and down the lengths of wooden dressers and bedposts. But adjust they did. As the night became transparent, and the shapes and textures discernible, Sarah decided that calling forth the challenge in this room, the room he'd prepared painstakingly for _her_ , was akin to torture.

She saw the imprint of his magic just as clearly as her own hands, which she couldn't stop from running across the gleaming wood. She'd hadn't noticed it before, but the traces were throbbing with such vigor that the recognition almost burned at her skin, pulling her farther and farther into its folds. Every step forward lessened the pain and Sarah realized it had been pain of _separation_ , and that now she would be fine. She had returned. She would stay. She was home.

She took a deep breath. Even the air carried his spicy scent and the tingle of his magic. He was as much a part of the room as she was. _My room,_ her subconscious chanted, but at this point, that was neither here nor there. There was only now, and how to spend the future. The past held no meaning. Something like satisfaction hummed within her head, and Sarah paused, suddenly confused.

_But why did I ever leave this place? And how did I come here?_ She had been certain she'd needed to finish something, but her memory was hazy. _Was there a test?_ She blinked twice, on the edge of panic and acceptance, but the soft caress of magic on her skin continued to pull her into the room. _The hint of a man?_

"Such foolish thoughts, my Sarah," a masculine voice purred.

Her body turned on its own, drawn in by the familiar lilt and warm tones. She found him instantly. His back was turned and he appeared to be staring out the open window, black cloak fluttering behind him. Too obvious to have been there when she'd entered the room, he had either appeared from thin air or been molded from the hum of magic within. As he turned, Sarah decided she didn't care either way.

She knew him, _oh_ how she knew him. The soft corn silk hair that framed his face like a mane, a face carved from white marble and the kiss of moonlight. Eyes that never left her dreams—one midnight blue, the other warm brown. The careless raise of painted brows, a predatory tilt of his long neck. And thin, mocking lips that felt as much hers as his own. Oh yes, her mind chanted, she knew him very well. And yet she had so much more to learn.

A tilt of his head. A smirk of his lips. He was pleased. "I have been waiting for you, precious. Waiting far too long. Lost yourself in our castle again, have you?"

_Was that where I'd been?_ Sarah furrowed her brow slightly. She _did_ remember walking down the halls.

A ghost of a smile. "Tsk, tsk, my dear. Why wander when I can give you everything you desire?" He clicked his tongue at her, calling forth a glowing crystal. "Here, now, and forever."

_Yes, why Sarah? Surely there was a reason, right?_

The crystal popped, scattering light like dust, and Sarah opened her eyes to see the room littered with similar bright orbs, posing as candles in the shadows. Sarah's jaw dropped as she drank in the sight and all she could think was if this is how he looked in candlelight, she'd never face day again. Predatory, enticing, seductive. He was circling her in slow steps now, eying her like a starving man eyes a steak, and Sarah was suddenly aware of how much she wanted to _be_ his steak. Her stomach gave a lurch.

_Right?_

Feeling faint, she raised her arm to lean against the dresser, and grimaced when she felt a bite of pain. It still hadn't healed from….Sarah trailed off. She couldn't seem to remember how she'd injured it. Sarah frowned, unsettled by the peculiar gaps in her memory. Even in this beauty, something was decidedly not right.

"Allow me, precious," he hummed into her ear, sliding beside her. He pushed up her sleeve with the sweep of a gloved hand, and began kneading the tender skin with a hum of warmth. Sarah tensed, but he shushed her with a silky caress. " _Sarah_ , relax."

It was the way he said her name that did it, dripping from his lips like molten gold, and Sarah felt her shoulders drop in pleasure, worries forgotten. She felt him grin into her neck and further his ministrations. His hands were like magic, rubbing slow circles into the muscle, pushing and pulsing with a power that sent fire down her spine. He was far too good with his hands. Those long, lovely, _wonderful_ hands, which she decided could rub her anytime, anywhere, if only to feel the spark of his touch. Her eyes fluttered, and she let them close as he caressed a particularly sore spot. _Oh god, what those hands could do._

"There now, that wasn't so difficult, hmm?"

"Mhmm," she moaned, unable to process words. She was clearly past all rational thought; such sinful pleasures existed only in the wild depths of the mind, or the devil's fantasies. It was too perfect to be real.

Sarah fluttered her lids again as the perfect hands disappeared from her skin. _No, don't stop. Please, don't stop._

"Never," he agreed silkily. And then his hands were back on her skin, singing with a new magic. Skin on skin, fire on fire, twins reunited by touch.

_Oh, gods. No. Gloves._ She was barely coherent as he moved from her shoulder to her neck, parting her hair like a velvet curtain and holding her attention there for far too long.

_Ohhhhhhhhhh…Jareth._

"Turn around Sarah," he whispered into her ear. "Just turn around and all your dreams come true."

It was so tempting. So very, very tempting to have all ones dreams granted with a whisper. Sarah had dreams; beautiful, wonderful dreams of being on stage, pleasing audiences, ears ringing with applause. The thought flickered from nowhere. _On stage?_ _That couldn't be right._

" _Turn around Sarah,"_ he begged, trailing kisses across her neck, "let me please you."

She turned, for how could she not? Not when his words commanded obedience and dripped of dark promise. She caught his eyes, deep and shining with desire, and then she saw no more for his lips had captured hers and not even Samson could have pried them open.

His kiss began softly; not at all like before, and yet just as distracting. Tender enough to be a lover, yet with a passion she knew was heavily restrained, he caressed her lips as if she was breakable china and she was teetering off the edge. Which, Sarah sighed in ecstasy, was far from fiction. She was thankful he had moved his arms behind her neck and across her back or she was certain she'd have fallen to the floor in a million pieces. Especially when he decided that she wasn't going to break, and upped his ferocity.

Once, twice, his teeth nipped her bottom lip, testing her will. Luckily for him, it was long gone. She gave in immediately, responding with enthusiasm as his tongue slid past her lips to tangle in her own. It was if she'd swallowed white hot fire, waves of heat rippling down her body to fill her toes. Sinful. Intoxicating. Indescribable. She moaned, voice thick with desire. Louder the next time; two wild animals in the heat of the moment. Their tongues danced in passion until Sarah felt something thud into her calves. _The bed_ , she realized vaguely, and then she was bouncing down onto her back into the soft folds.

The sudden shift caught her attention, and she snapped her eyes open. Jareth hovered over her, hands on either side of her body like a cage, grinning wolfishly. Sarah froze, understanding his intentions and an ounce of sense trickled into her mind. "Jareth," she gasped, "wait, I've never…we…can't…"

"Let me love you, sweet Sarah. _Please."_

She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and he took the chance to capture her lips once again, renewing his promise to make every bit of Sarah his own. Only then, would she truly be his; body, mind, and soul. Sarah's protests ceased. There was nothing more to life than the king; her gorgeous, powerful, seductive king. He was all she'd ever wanted, and would ever want for again.

In an imperceptible motion, he banished his boots, cloak, and creamy white poet's shirt, until he was poised over her in nothing but breeches. Sarah allowed herself a moment to ogle his pale chest, fingers tracing the thin line of blond hair that disappeared into his pants. His eyes darkened, and he started tugging at Sarah's own tunic as if it was vile. "Wretched thing," he smirked.

Grinning, she pushed him off her and began shimmying out of the foul garment. The weight of it now burned her skin, keeping her chained against her will and apart from all rationality. In an instant, his hands were running up and down her bare sides, sending goose bumps across the tender flesh and moving to unhook the last offending scrap of clothing.

"Oh gods, _Jareth."_ She arched her back sharply.

"Enough! This has gone on far too long, girl. I knew you'd been lying to us all." The icy voice came from nowhere. "Your Game is over."

It was enough to startle a crowd, let alone two occupants, and Sarah stilled. _What? What Game?_ Bothered by the intrusion, she pushed Jareth off her, intending to give the owner of the voice a piece of her mind so she could return to her soon to be lover. He growled warningly at her shove.

"Go away; can't you see we're _busy?_ " She didn't even notice her indecency, leering at the newcomer in only a bra and breeches.

"I should have known!" he chuckled, moving towards them, "The one sin you mortals can never see past."

As the figure came into the crystal lights, a flash of recognition hit Sarah. She knew this other man. Not nearly as well as her king, but she definitely knew this king in passing.

_King?_ She frowned. _Was he a king?_

She eyed Jareth out of the corner of her eye, looking for backup, but he was still as stone. Almost as if he'd been… _paused_. But that was silly; he clearly must just be concentrating on the moment. Planning retaliation. Yes, that was it. He'd never desert her. _Here, now, and forever…_

"You have no right to disrupt my Game, foolish king."

It was a different voice; agitated and low. Sarah turned back towards Jareth, but it was clear he hadn't spoken. He was blank, expressionless, and _fuzzy_ around the edges, as though he were a parched man's mirage. She quickly flicked her gaze back to the second king, hoping he'd taken the hint and left. Perhaps that explained his silence. But her eyes caught something else first; something not quite human.

It was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Almost as if it was a shape from a dream or distant memory. White, shimmering, and powerful; there but not quite _real._ It gave Sarah an indescribable look and spoke again.

"You have no business here."

The king looked affronted, but kept his words polite. "I meant the Labyrinth and Game no disrespect. I only assumed that the rules were absolute and that girl," he pointed a finger, "has flouted them!"

"Dangerous assumptions, king," the shadow kept its voice low, "very dangerous." Quickly, it turned towards Sarah. "Tell me, Sarah Williams, have you used magic to defeat a fellow heir? Bypass a stage?" At her questioning stare, the shape answered for her. "Your answer is a certain _no,_ king. Or have you no faith in my ability to monitor my own creation?" The words were laced with anger.

"Not on her first run. To allow such mockery, and let an advantaged runner compete! Mortal, at that!" He stomped a boot angrily. "She must be disqualified!"

The shimmer's silvery eyes narrowed. "You wish to condemn her to non-existence?"

"I must keep order! Orion knows what catastrophes might arise if such is disregarded."

The shape swayed in the air, giving Sarah one final glance, as if her face held all the answers to the dilemma. It took but a second. "It is necessary she finish the Game," spoke the shimmer firmly. "She must finish."

Sarah was missing something; now she was damn certain of it. She listened warily to the two beings arguing over stages and some game and rules without understanding why such strange ideas were keeping her from her love. The same love who was fading further and further into thin air. She yelped, trying to grab him, but all her fingers caressed was the ghost of his outline.

That was _it._ Sarah snapped, "Excuse me, but this is _my_ room. Could you both get out of my castle?"

Quick as lightning, the shadow flashed across the room and stopped inches from the foot of the bed. It was hard to make out the expression on its face, but Sarah's subconscious saw interest and was that satisfaction? Yes, Sarah decided, the shape was amused. But why? What did she say?

Sarah swallowed under the weight of its gaze. It was rather unnerving; she wasn't sure why yelling at a figure would make it happy. Angry, undoubtedly. But this, she had no response to.

"Your castle? As in, Jareth's castle?" The shape cracked a smirk. "Do tell how you assume it yours as well."

"Jareth _said_ —"

The shape growled, apparently expecting a different answer. "He says many things, most of which you ignore and the rest of which you defy. You are intriguing to be sure, but such is not enough to share his Kingdom." It let out a frustrated sigh. "Particularly when your head is clouded with empty lust."

That _wasn't_ true. With all the uncertainties floating through Sarah's head, her love for the Goblin King was clear. It wasn't a thought, it was a feeling; an emotional certainty. She couldn't recall ever not loving him, but if there was such a time, it must have been a decidedly vacant existence. She opened her mouth to protest, but the bang of her door flying open stopped her mid-phrase.

"But I lo—"

She should have completed the line then, indeed it would have saved her a great deal of trouble, but Sarah's mind couldn't process what she was seeing. Him. Her king. Standing panicked within her room, eyes wide and searching. Searching for _her._ Those eyes found their target, and the king let out a stiff sigh of relief.

" _Sarah."_

"Jareth? But you're…" she sought her bed companion, but he had completely vanished, "…here?"

The unknown king laughed. "Yes, _Jareth._ I should have realized you'd only show under such circumstances."

"Enough, Cael. Leave Sarah out of this," the King of Goblins growled, taking two steps in the other king's direction.

_Cael?_ The name was on the tip of her tongue. _The High King!_

"Responsibility must be taken, Jareth. I will not allow her to usurp laws thousands of years into their existence." He gave the shimmer a purposeful glance. "You _will_ disqualify the girl."

Jareth cut in before the shimmer could respond. "Damn it Cael, you cannot blame her for this!" He turned his eyes to the shape next, seemingly begging it to understand. But all he was met with was a tilt of a glowing head and a crease of silver lips. If they communicated a message, it was beyond Sarah's comprehension. She was barely comprehending the voices.

She was trying to understand, really she was, but the whole scene felt rushed. There were too many people in the room. Too many faces. She had to get out. But she couldn't get out.

Another flash of recognition and Sarah's heart thudded against her ribs. She had been trying to get out of something else. Trying to complete something, needing to tell someone something…

"Then who will take the blame? The denizens of the Underground? I myself, for not uncovering this sooner? Or perhaps I should return to my original plan and out your role in all this. Proposing to a mortal…" he shook his head to clear the offensive thought, "the very idea is unthinkable!"

For a moment, all that could be heard in the room were ragged breaths. Cael, face red from anger. Jareth, a panicked whoosh of nerves. And Sarah, taking in a gasp of understanding.

_Proposing?_

She remembered that now, even so far into the past. A peach, a dance, a proclamation of love. Him, draped in white, proposing to _her_ as if one 'yes' was the most important word in the world. But she'd chosen different words.

The wrong words.

How naïve she'd been. But that could be corrected, she realized excitedly. He was here, now, begging to save her. This was her chance to fix everything, and she'd be damned if she fucked it up again. Whatever it took, she would put this right. She creased her brow, thinking. _Now, what exactly had he said? Fear, love…being a slave…._

"Then blame me, Cael," Jareth growled low before she could speak, "but you will allow her to finish." He gave a resigned sigh. "She, who holds my heart and magic for eternity."

"Magic?" His words hit the High King like a thunderbolt. "You _didn't_."

Jareth stood silent, eyes cold but telling.

"Love _and_ magic…? The Labyrinth's decay, the regeneration…" Cael spun towards the Goblin King, all questions answered, "You could have damned us _all._ " He rushed at him, eyes ablaze and hands sparking.

Sarah heard none of this, too busy forming her lines. She had one chance at this. One single, all important chance. And god help her, she was ready. She willed a crystal to form, not surprised when it appeared instantly; her love was now without doubt. The light within flashed a brilliant gold.

"STOP!" she rose from the bed and shivered, suddenly aware of her state of dress. Embarrassing, but unimportant, even as Jareth's eyes flamed. She knew she had his attention, though. Half-dressed, crystal flaring, steps determined, she made an obvious step towards Jareth.

Her voice was just as clear. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way to the castle beyond the Goblin City…"

The reactions were immediate. The Labyrinth eyed her approvingly, somehow understanding her intentions. Cael was frozen solid, eyes wide; it didn't matter how. _Rules and promises be damned_ , the shimmer smirked. _She was worthy._

"…to return to where my heart was stolen."

Jareth stopped breathing.

Her voice softened as she reached him. "You asked me once to fear you, love you, and do as you said. You told me you'd be my slave." She swallowed, heart pounding. "I didn't understand then, but I understand now."

He took the offered crystal without a word, unable to form more than a strangled cough in his throat. He had to be hallucinating, he thought wildly, the dark look in Sarah's eyes was a scene from a dream. Had the world fallen down?

"You promised me mornings of gold and valentine evenings," she whispered. "Lovely gifts. But I don't want them."

" _Sarah_ —," he choked out, questioning.

She tilted her head and smiled, moving to touch his cheek. "I only want you." Then her hands were around his neck and her lips whispered one last line into his.

"I love you."

The world fell down.

As she captured his lips, the room gave a drunken lurch and a flicker of magic. Shapes swirled like watercolors; indistinguishable from their neighbor and bright like neon lights. And gravity ceased to exist. Sarah clutched onto Jareth as the floor dropped beneath her, leaving them suspended mid-air in a swirl of wind and light and a whoosh of satisfaction. Kisses and returned caresses; the Goblin King was nothing if not generous. And still, the world fell.

There was a sudden rush of magic, jumping back and forth the pair quicker than a glance, and the warm whisper of the Labyrinth. Night became day, crystals became bulging eyes, and the neon muted as the shimmer pulled forth the scene, still humming in satisfaction. The effect was startling, particularly since it echoed of déjà vu, but before the familiar mass could comment on the shape, it returned to its hidden form. Its delivery, however, remained.

It is a rare thing to find an opposite so perfect as to distract from reality, but for Jareth and Sarah, such was proved possible. Neither noticed the gust, the colors, or the shift. If they'd had, both would have likely passed out from sensation overload. But as it was, both were blissfully oblivious. And deeply occupied.

Until some foul creature had the nerve to cough.

Sarah regrettably pulled back, desire still flooding her eyes. " _Wow_."

Jareth couldn't help it; he threw his head back and laughed. Never before had his life seemed so perfect and he felt completely at ease. "Wow indeed." And he smiled a dazzling smile, ignoring the gasps and mumbling crowd. "I believe we have some things to discuss?" He gave her a once over, and conjured up an ivory tunic which he offered, regrettably, to her. Sarah pulled it on, blushing a hundred shades of red.

"Perhaps after the formalities are addressed, Jareth," a warm feminine voice interrupted. "The Lady Sarah's presence is required one final time."

"Certainly Amarette." Jareth bowed. "I believe we both owe you a great deal of gratitude."

She smiled and winked. "I have no idea what you could possibly mean. I've done nothing but enjoy the Game. Lady Sarah?" She waved her forward, ignoring Jareth's obvious frustration. Moments later, he melted into the crowd.

"Did I win?" Sarah raised her voice to be heard.

"You did very well." She guided Sarah through the throng of admirers. "Even when most bet against you."

Sarah's heart gave a little jolt. _It was over. She had won._ "Thanks, but I can't take all the credit."

Amarette gave her a knowing glance, but said nothing.

"Oh! Hey, actually, I need to talk to you about this whole kingdom thing. I ahh, I don't want it. Not that it's not a great prize and all," she justified hurriedly, "but I can't possibly rule a kingdom I know nothing about."

She gave a low laugh, murmuring "An easy request to grant. You will not be given a kingdom Lady Sarah—"

"Just Sarah."

"Sarah then." She shook her head, amused. "But your misplaced concern is charming."

"Pardon?"

But Amarette maintained her silence, pointing instead at the dais where the High King and Queen usually sat. The two chairs were occupied. And although neither held their intended occupant, Sarah found the new guests a far more welcoming sight. A fabulous, heart-fluttering, unimaginable sight.

"Sarah!"

Sarah sucked in a gasp of breath. _Was that…?_

"It is you! We thought that, well, it doesn't matter, you finished!"

And Sarah saw them. Really saw them. A girl, a good foot shorter than herself, draped in the palest pink, grinning wider than a river. And seated next to her, lanky, smirking and dressed in cobalt blue was the boy. It was incomprehensible.

If she had won, how were Rosalyn and Flynn alive and out of the Labyrinth?

"Rosalyn…? Flynn? But…how? Can't only one win?" Her heart felt ready to burst. Surely this was all too good to be true.

"Who said we all won? Apparently these days, winning isn't everything." And she grinned again, jumping at Sarah. "It's so good to see you."

"Mhmph." Sarah's gut gave a lurch at the unexpected hug. "You too. Both of you! But what happened? Did you pass lust? Both of you?" She flicked between their faces, looking for a clue.

"Err. Funny story, actually." And was that a blush from Flynn? "Seems like it was an all or nothing task."

"All or nothing…? Oh!" She finally noticed that Rosalyn's color also matched her garb, and smiled. "That's great. I'm so happy for you guys!"

Flynn gave his customary nervous laugh, and Rosalyn whacked him on the back. "Thank you, Sarah."

Sarah decided she had never seen a more endearing couple.

"So, who won then? There still is a kingdom, right?"

"Of course, Lady Sarah," Amarette chuckled behind her, "patience." She turned to the crowd and amplified her voice to fill the arena. "Bidders! Watchers! Denizens of the Underground! Welcome to the coronation of our Game. My husband is currently detained for the moment," she paused, "but until he returns, I will conduct these most unusual proceedings."

The hall, thousands and thousands of Fae and all, fell silent.

Amarette continued. "Never before have we had multiple runners emerge from our Game. And never before have two of our runners completed the final task in unison." She hushed a few murmurs. "Nonetheless, the rules stand that the victor receive the prize. It is therefore the agreement of the council that in the event of the tie, both runners claim rights to the Ocean Kingdom." She motioned for the pair on the dais to kneel. "Lady Rosalyn, Lord Flynn. My congratulations on your victory and blessings be towards your kingdom."

The applause was deafening. Sarah caught Rosalyn's smile before she was shuttled out of the way, seemingly forgotten. Bidders and observers were rushing the new leaders like a devoted mob and Sarah caught at least two jabs to the gut in the process.

_Figures._ But she really didn't care. She was _done._

"Don't think you are forgotten, precious. I do believe we have some unfinished business to discuss. And I have just been informed about a deal with my Labyrinth." Jareth appeared from nowhere, whispering low in her ear. His tone was concerned, but curious. Clearly, the Labyrinth didn't share everything with its keeper.

Sarah turned and gave him a wary smile. She had forgotten about that little detail. "Oh…right." She offered her hand, and he took it, placing a light kiss on her wrist before vanishing them both in warm light.


	19. Settling the Deal

It should have been an easy transfer, what with Sarah's acceptance of Jareth and her magic, but it wasn't. It was rather uncomfortable.

Not that their embrace was, of course. Because that particular motion felt more natural than breathing. No, the concern was the destination. Any novice to teleportation could tell you that the pivotal rule was to know your destination backwards, frontwards, and blindfolded. One must be able to paint the location, color for color, and shape for shape, in thought. Again, this was not the concern; Jareth knew exactly where he wanted to travel. Indeed, it was to the place he knew best in the Underground. Tedious meetings and scruffy decor aside, the throne room in his castle was home. And at this hour of the evening, it was a home that should have been deserted.

_That_ was the problem.

Goblins were swarming the room like bees. And unlike Toffee, whose mild nature kept her in good-standing, these goblins were more hopeless than helpful. Jumping in and out of the pit, around and around his throne, hanging out of windows and off loose walls without any regard to physics, they frolicked as never before seen or since. Flashes of grey, brown, and green whirred across the floor as if on skates, and if Jareth hadn't personally built the floor of the room himself, he wouldn't have known it existed.

The landings were, therefore, rather botched. Jareth landed on a squatty horned one who cried out an 'eep!' and tipped him sideways. He managed to stay standing, but realized that was only because he'd landed on a second goblin in the opposite direction and was somehow sandwiched between them. Sarah wasn't as fortunate. She had been embracing Jareth tight, but upon landing on a taller goblin, fell face first into a pile of black feathers; feathers with a decidedly fowl smell. She spat them out in surprise.

"Quiet!" Jareth kicked apart his goblin sandwich in two sharp prods, and the room turned to him with round eyes.

"Kingy back! Kingy bring Lady!"

"Lady beat Game! Lady won Kingy!" Several squawking voices seconded the cries. "Kingy bring Lady back to play!"

"Oh bother…" Jareth helped Sarah stand as a goblin began pulling at her tunic. "Never a moment of peace."

"No kidding." She muttered, brushing off a stray feather. "Something to look forward to…"

Jareth shot her a hopeful look, possibilities spinning like crystals in his head, but she wasn't looking. Did she mean what he thought she meant? "Sarah…?"

She sighed. "Where's the Labyrinth?"

"Beg pardon?" Even a foot away, her response was muffled and unintelligible amidst the chaos. The goblins were at it in full force once more, yelling and tumbling without fear. A heavy stomp on his foot was the last stand. "Argh, ENOUGH! If you don't shut up I'll drop kick you all into the Bog!"

There was a reason the King of the Goblins fell back on his favorite threat, even when he had thousands of disagreeable punishments at hand; it worked.

He sighed in relief. " _Finally_."

"A vast improvement Jareth, but perhaps my deal with Sarah Williams would be best discussed in private?"

A chorus of garbled 'oohs' and 'ahhs' greeted the shinning form, but neither Sarah nor Jareth expressed the same awe. Appreciation, yes—for the soul had allowed Sarah to finish her Game attempt. But certainly not awe. Stroking an already immeasurable ego was just pointless.

"In private," Jareth repeated, frowning. "What discussion would need utter privacy?"

"That is between Sarah Williams and me."

"It's fine, Jareth." She touched his arm comfortingly. "I made the deal."

"Willingly? With the Labyrinth itself?" He looked at Sarah as if she was insane. "Sarah, what did you promise?"

"The mag—"

But the Labyrinth cut her off, already fading out. "If you insist on knowing Jareth, follow. This may concern you as well. I trust you know your way to the heart of my existence."

Jareth pretended not to be insulted. "Indeed." And, against his better judgment, he left the goblins alone in the throne room.

* * *

From the story Sarah knew by heart, the center of the Labyrinth was the Goblin King's castle. It had taken her weeks to memorize the lines, but after living out the tale, she was confident that she had the finer details ironed out. 'The castle at the center of the Labyrinth' should have been its heart; the center of the Labyrinth and all else. It made perfect sense.

Then again, she had never expected the Labyrinth to have a mind of its own; a sentient form to meddle around in. That was one rather large oversight. And that oversight meant that she never expected the 'heart' and center of the Labyrinth to be unrelated to its king. But of course, it was.

It took Sarah about three seconds to realize how futile her attempt at understanding had been.

Whereas the castle had been beige and cobbled, the heart of the Labyrinth was bright and airy. A great open expanse of nothing, shimmering like diamonds in the mist, circled easily across the sky and the ground was there, but not quite. Sarah felt as though she was standing on water and that any minute, the liquid solid would engulf her. She snapped her feet apart in an attempt to balance and heard the Labyrinth laugh. Sarah frowned, still unsettled.

"This is _not_ funny; I feel like I'm sinking."

The space around her flickered as the soul laughed again. "I believe the feeling should pass momentarily."

Sarah prayed this was the case; she had never been a good swimmer. To distract herself, she took a minute to appreciate the expanse. Undeniably beautiful, but laced with danger, it pulsed with a familiar magic and comforting hum. It whispered across her skin and tickled her senses. It was almost as if the mist _knew_ her. And just as assured, the sinking feeling dissipated. Sarah let go of a single breath, thinking. Was this part of the Labyrinth? "Where are we?"

"You do not understand?" The humanoid shimmer appeared, cocking its head. "You do not feel it?"

"Feel what?" But that was almost a lie. She felt something, something just as solid as her person, as if it had always been a part of her. The airy space was comforting, and it unsettled Sarah to no end because she didn't understand why her heart knew this place when her mind recognized nothing. "Is this part of the deal?"

"Perhaps. Tell me, Sarah Williams, not what you see, but what you _feel_."

Always an obsession with _feelings_ , thought Sarah. It shouldn't have been surprising given her time Underground. The place was built on wishes and dreams, emotions and imaginations. Thinking only hindered the magic. She started, realizing why she felt so comforted. She had embraced the gift…

The Labyrinthine magic. It was the raw force of this place. And she _knew_ it.

"I feel…comforted. Safe." Sarah breathed. "Like I'm home."

A self-satisfied smile. A nod of silver. "And your answer?" It sounded almost giddy now, anxious for her response. It had heard it once before, to finish the Game, but not in the necessary context. It had been a means to an end, not a separate thought. Such was necessary. "Do you fully accept?"

"Accept _what?_ "

"I owe you answers before your own, Sarah," sighed a familiar voice. "As much as they concern me, you at the very least deserve them."

He must have been listening the whole time, what with his perfectly timed response. It unnerved Sarah that she hadn't noticed his presence. Didn't he possess the same Labyrinthine magic? She held back a groan; _of course_ he had blended in so neatly. The Labyrinth and its king were practically one and the same strange force. She eyed Jareth patiently.

"I have not been entirely truthful with you." He paused as Sarah snorted. "But minor deceptions have caused us a deal of trouble. Turned both our worlds upside down." He looked her straight in the eye. "I apologize."

_I must be hallucinating_ , Sarah thought suddenly. No way did the infallible King of the Goblins actually _apologize._

"I should never have gifted you with my magic. And more than that, I should have let you be." There was something pained it his glance, like a wounded animal. "I did not. I could not. Not you."

"Jareth, I told you—"

"Please Sarah, let me finish." He cut her off, grimacing. "What happens in the Game means little outside it. It is, after all, just a game. Before you entangle yourself further, I need you to at least understand the situation. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Very poetic, Jareth."

The Goblin King didn't spare his Labyrinth a glare, even as much as he desired to. "Complete your deal after you understand why it ended up made."

Sarah's face was blank, and she nodded.

Jareth sighed, beginning low. "I never meant it to happen. Indeed, it is unheard of." A choked laugh. "Peculiar how the fates toy with us! You were young and headstrong, expecting everything of the world and infuriatingly stubborn. But I suppose that was caught my attention. What fun is it to tease a dead mouse?"

Sarah didn't answer.

"I didn't want to realize it was not the little mouse trapped, but myself. Trapped, ensnared. By a snip of a girl from Above; a nothing in my world." He flicked his glance down bitterly. "I did not handle it well. I tried to scare you back from me, but the attempt was weak." He paused again. "Even so, my apologies for the cleaners."

_A second apology?_ It was an uncomfortable thing. "Forget it, it's fine."

"It is assuredly NOT fine." His words echoed loud, and he scowled. "You deserved far better."

"You were just doing what I asked. You didn't wish Toby away; _I_ did. It's fine, I didn't understand then, but I do now. Really, it's fine."

He growled, but didn't argue. It was clear he was still struggling with his words. "You take far too much for granted."

She shook her head. "Not anymore."

"So confident when how little you understand. The peach, for one. More than just fruit and dreams."

She raised an eyebrow. "Proposals, even?"

He froze in shock. "You knew?"

"Rosalyn told me." At his confused glance, she clarified. "The winner? Girl in pink?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Unimportant."

"You better not tell her that. Don't you rulers have bonding retreats or something?" She held back a laugh at his scowling face. "Guess not."

"I fail to see the humor in our situation." His eyes narrowed. "You do understand what you did by biting the peach, don't you? Why Cael was so enraged?"

"I beat you."

"In one sense."

"What does that mean?" She whispered, both fearful and excited. Was there _more_ to the peach…?

But he wasn't looking. "You accepted the peach. My proposal, my kingdom, and everything I had to offer."And he snapped his eyes to hers. " _My_ _Labyrinth_."

Sarah's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't possibly mean what she thought. "The Labyrinth? But I broke out of the dream. I didn't accept it."

"The taste was all that mattered."

"That's crazy! I was _fifteen_."

"And I said as much! Much too young to understand then. Precisely why I needed you to _listen_ before you make any decisions. Yes, you defeated me to claim your brother. You did not, however, defeat the Labyrinth." He sighed one long sigh. "You couldn't. Not when it is partially yours to tend."

"Mine," she spoke, voice void of emotion.

"Yes."

"But that makes no sense! Why would you do that?"

"I was…overconfident."

"That I'd lose?"

"That you'd chose to _stay._ " He let the word hang in the air for a long moment. "Your little speech caused a new set of problems. You renounced my power over you, but not your tie to the Labyrinth. I begged the Labyrinth to fulfill its end of said compact, and it did. It opened its magic to you. You've tapped into the Labyrinthine magic, but you have not knowingly and willingly accepted." He motioned to the silvery form. "As mentioned."

"Was that what we were talking about?" Sarah directed her voice to the Labyrinth. "I thought you meant accepting our _deal._ "

"That wasn't your deal?" Jareth voice had a sharp edge to it.

"No, I promised to return the magic!"

" _What?_ " Jareth felt his heart snap in two. His words had been for naught; she had already decided. Again, he was cruelly scorned before ever being able to explain himself. He growled, closing off his emotions. Never again, he vowed. Never would he allow himself to care. "Fine. Return it. Leave. As I said, it was all a mistake." He turned.

"But I don't want to leave!"

Jareth stopped in his tracks, listening, but not even the Labyrinth commented. He would not turn around, he would _not_ care…

"Don't you listen? I told you this in the castle. I don't care about what you've done, what you've offered in the past. I'll admit it was the wrong way to go about things. Crazy, actually. And I should hate you. But I can't." She smirked. "Just as you couldn't."

He wouldn't turn, he wouldn't fall prey again to her cruelty…

"Do you love me?" Suddenly, it was all Sarah had to know. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she watched his golden hair sway in the silver mist. His posture straight, unchanging. The question had startled him. She tried again, softer. "Jareth, do you love me?"

"What does it matter? You chose."

"Answer the question, Jareth." The Labyrinth cut in. "Honestly. Or we will spend eternity at odds."

_So this is my punishment_ , thought Jareth bitterly. The King of the Goblins knew he'd made some grave mistakes in his time. Recent events included. But this was an exquisite form of torture. He was posed to spill his soul, once again, to the girl who captured his heart only to have it brushed off with a word. She didn't want him; she'd proved that by freely offered back his gifts. How _dare_ she ask it of him? How dare his Labyrinth.

He turned in a black swish of cloth, spitting the word out like poison. " _Yes._ " And he couldn't stop from expelling his pain—perhaps in an attempt to make her feel guilty, perhaps otherwise. "Everything about you causes me agony. Your defiance, your gall at using me to pass lust. You toy with my patience and spit my words back like fire. To me!" He jabbed at his chest. "A king! It baffles me why I, unlike the majority of my kind, have fallen in love when you are such an impossible creature." He caught Sarah's wide eyes, and his face twisted. "But I can't seem to stop from loving you."

Sarah's stomach lurched and she fought to keep breathing. Nothing about their past mattered. There was nothing more than his fiery mismatched eyes, his piercing, unending stare upon her face. The Game was inconsequential. It had been an unavoidable law. He had never meant to harm her. He hadn't wanted her to run. Not if he loved her.

And God help her, she loved him.

"I don't want you to stop. I love you, Jareth. I tried my damnedest to ignore it, but I can't anymore. I don't _want_ to." And without waiting for his reply, she closed the gap between them.

Her kiss was gentle, almost a whisper of a reassurance. She poured her heart into his lips, caressing his tender skin. He froze, but only for an instant, and then he was lost. Lost in her lips and her hands in his hair and his own on her face. Lost in all the promise of a future.

"Accepted," a voice spoke triumphantly, startling the pair apart.

"Accepted?" Sarah panicked, remembering. The Game was over; her debt still unpaid. "There must be a way to change our deal! I don't want to return the magic."

An arm snaked around her waist, plastering her to a warm body. His grip tightened. "You will not," Jareth emphasized each syllable, giving the Labyrinth a murderous look. " _Will_ you?" It was a command, not a question.

"Always presumptuous," the shimmer chuckled. The silver fibers of its façade seemed to bend oddly, sparkle a little brighter. Thin lips twitched, curled back into the stirrings of a smile. Even its eyes glittered with amusement. "How perfect."

Sarah's pulse raced. This was not starting off well. A second arm tucked itself across her chest, cradling her tight as she tried to stay calm. She would not panic; not after all that she'd gone through. She would not.

"Perfect timing, indeed." And it paused to collect itself, drawing its smirk thin. "I was wondering when I'd be able to discuss our terms. It seems now you've settled your issues, Jareth, and would kindly allow Sarah and I to settle ours." Something like a growl broke out, but the Labyrinth continued. "Sarah Williams, I do wonder if you remember the terms of our deal. They were rather fascinating," the shimmer said calmly, splitting another smile.

"Yes, but—"

"Then we are settled."

Sarah sputtered. _That_ didn't sound right.

"I do apologize for not assisting further, but you are such a fascinating creature to watch." The shimmer gave an uncharacteristic snort and cocked its head. "Still fascinating, even, to match yourself so well. But indeed, you have. And our deal is settled. A courtesy I felt required to explain."

Sarah was beyond confused. _Settled?_ She didn't feel any different. The Labyrinth couldn't have taken back the magic. She tried to question the shimmer, but all she got out was a 'whah…?'

"You do remember the exact terms of the deal?" the Labyrinth patronized, almost laughing at her expression. The girl certainly thought she did. _No matter._ "As my memory is unmatched, perhaps I can remind you. " And the soul conjured a crystal to its hand, almost indistinguishable until it was tossed into the air. The Labyrinth didn't need to tell the pair to watch the memory inside. It was obvious.

_"Wish it so."_

_"Pardon?"_

_"Wish your wager to me, and it is accepted."_

_"Oh, uhh…right. I wish that after I win the Game, all the magic given to me by Jareth will be returned, out of my own free will, to the Labyrinth."_

_"It is done."_

The crystal burst, dusting Sarah in a pale glitter. She groaned; she remembered perfectly well what she had said. It was as bad as being scolded like a child. "I remember," she said dully.

"Yet you don't listen," it goaded. "You never listen. Did you _win_ , Sarah Williams? Did you win this Game of games? Because I was under the impression you'd come in third."

There it was, the grin to match all grins. Sarah's heart fluttered at the sight. It was true; technically, she hadn't _won._

"And you of all know that words have power, but only when followed." The Labyrinth gave one last fond smirk, and began fading, its last words like wisps of silver promise. "Welcome home, Lady Sarah."


	20. Here, Now, and Forever

Following the Labyrinth's departure—or welcome, as it were—there passed a moment between the pair that was best left uninterrupted. Honestly, thought Sarah, it was about time. If it wasn't a crowd of Bidders, it was the High King and the Labyrinth, or better yet, a combination of all three. Privacy in the Underground seemed hard to come by.

Needless to say, it took some time for Jareth and Sarah to turn their focus elsewhere.

Sarah was first to pull back, straining for breath and lips bruised from his attention, and she took a needed gulp of air. Still, she felt breathless. He clearly had too great an effect on her. Him and his tortuously perfect lips. She loosened her grip on Jareth's shirt and, face blushing, unwrapped her leg from his, completely unaware of how it had wandered. She'd obviously been caught up in the moment. As blissful as kissing was, they did have other things to do with their mouths. Talking, for one. Sarah held back the Goblin King as he leaned in again.

"Wait a minute. There's some things we need to talk about," she half-spoke, half-laughed at his frustrated expression. She'd learned to read him so well.

"I despise waiting."

"Obviously, or you would have taken the time to court me before proposing."

Jareth at least had the decency to color. "I thought we were past that," he motioned between them, as if he needed to remind her of their actions. She'd certainly been agreeable. Or she had acted flawlessly as such. His eyes narrowed. "Or am I mistaken?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Stop worrying. I just thought we should discuss what's next. Where do we go from here?"

"I should think that obvious. You stay here, with me. As my queen."

"Queen?" Her brows shot up. "Don't you think that's a bit…sudden? We've only just stopped wanting to kill each other," she reasoned, "and before you bite my head off, yes I do love you, so stop worrying."

Again, she'd read his intentions and he calmed slightly. He wasn't pleased, however. Now that he knew her feelings were mutual, he wouldn't let her go. Not when he'd waited so long to keep her. "I will not let you remain elsewhere."

"I never said I wanted to leave," she sighed, "just that I think we should take this slowly. I love you, Jareth, but I'm only twenty. I'm not ready to be a queen. I'd have no idea what to do!"

"Me, obviously."

" _Jareth_."

He held up his hands in defense, smirking. "Simply a suggestion."

"You're shameless, you know that?"

His response was to grin wider. Stifling a chuckle, he schooled his expression to be serious. "In all candor, Sarah, I have no doubt that you'll make a remarkable Goblin Queen. You've already charmed my goblins, a harder task than you'd think. And if I remember correctly—which I always do—three other rebellious creatures as well. Hogwart, was it?" he said mildly, grinning again.

"Hoggle," Sarah corrected, shaking her head at him, "and I know you do that on purpose." His memory wasn't that bad; he'd remembered Sir Didymus perfectly fine. There was only one reason for it. "Jealous?"

"Don't be absurd," he quickly shot back. Too quick, too loud.

Sarah grinned. She couldn't help but bait him, obvious as she thought her attempt was. "I'd really like to see him again. Thank him for all his help before. I mean, really thank him," she emphasized, almost laughing at Jareth's twisted expression of…shock? That wasn't expected. His face had gone cold in an instant. "Jareth?"

"Perhaps you'd like to see him now?" he hissed, suddenly remembering how Sarah had been damned earlier. "It so happens I know precisely where he is." And he narrowed his eyes dangerously, whispering, "Or on his head, where he'd better be."

The change was palpable, particularly when compared to their playful banter. The Goblin King was on the hinge of an outburst and Sarah felt her urge to tease him disappear. Now was not the time. If he knew exactly where Hoggle was, that only meant one thing; they'd had a confrontation. She threw caution to the wind. "And what, exactly, does that mean? What happened? And don't you dare not tell me," she raised her voice, stabbing a finger at him. "He's my friend. And if you want me to be Goblin Queen, I deserve to know what's going on with my soon-to-be subjects."

"Valid point, sweet," he agreed, lip twitching. The mention of her becoming his queen was reason enough. And surely, she'd rethink her affection for the scab when she learned of his role in outing her history. Oh yes, thought Jareth, that had a certain merit. "Perhaps you'd enjoy commending your friend on his flawless job of about getting you killed?"

"What?"

"Oh yes, the little fool was more than willing to spill your secrets to the High King's spy. How did you think Cael found out, hmm? Not from me," he said pointedly. "Never from me."

"That's ridiculous. Hoggle would never willingly do that." She raised a brow at Jareth. "He wouldn't risk pissing you off again."

"I must be losing my touch, then. Pity."

Sarah frowned. His attitude was unnecessary. "Let me ask him. He won't lie to me. You probably just intimidated him into giving you the story you wanted." She grabbed his hand. "Come on, we're going."

"So demanding," he commented, shaking his head in amusement. She was picking up his nuances already. He couldn't say he wasn't pleased. "As always, I am your slave."

They went.

* * *

"He is coming back, right? Perhaps he's forgotten…" Eran trailed off, trying to sound optimistic.

"Oh he'll be back alright. Prob'ly just waitin' for one of us to try runnin'," Hoggle beat down the happy notion. "I've never seen him so mad."

"Indeed," a new voice purred.

The troubled pair flinched, recognizing the Goblin King's voice easily, and paled at the malice imbued in those two innocuous syllables. It was also easy to tell his anger had not faded. Rose, if anything, as the low rustle of his throat struck a greater chord. Neither dared turn towards the monarch, for fear that looking him straight in the eye would be the last sight they'd be graced to see.

"Y-Yer Majesty! Err…back so soon?"

"Miss me, have you Hedgewart?" Still low. Just as fierce. Just as dangerous.

It was a testament of his fear that Hoggle never thought of correcting him. Jareth could call him whatever he wanted as long as he lived to hear it. "Of course, sire," he choked out, hoping that his response sounded true. He was still standing, seconds later. It was as good a sign as any. Dare he ask? "Err…and Sarah? She's alright?"

"Fortunately for you." He growled, amending, "or perhaps unfortunately, given the circumstances."

"That's enough, Jareth. I told you I'd talk to him."

"Sarah?" She was here? Now? Hoggle turned, blanching further at the Goblin King's stare, and straining to see his first friend. There. She was pressed behind his cloak, pushing at the dark clothed arms holding her back. "Sarah! Yer alright! I didn't mean it—really didn't—you gotta believe me. On me jewels I swear it. Honest!"

Sarah forced down Jareth's protective arm, glaring at him once before settling on one knee before Hoggle. There were times that she just wanted to smack the king for being so rude. It wasn't like Hoggle was going to attack her—twisting his hands, his small form shaking as if frozen—the poor dwarf looked absolutely terrified. And still, Jareth held her back like the guy had a death wish for her! Ridiculous.

"Oh Hoggle, I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it," she hushed him, rubbing his shaking arm. There was no way he'd meant it. What had Jareth's problem been? "It's fine."

His shaking calmed to a shiver, and his twisting hands untwisted. But his eyes still betrayed him, flicking towards the Goblin King once, then back at her. "And…His Majesty…?"

"Will forgive you too." That, with a quick glare at the monarch in question, as if daring him to argue. He didn't. His returning glare spoke volumes on its own, however.

"And the spy? Will your misplaced forgiveness extend there too?" Surely, he thought, Sarah understood that the pair had almost destroyed her? If the boy hadn't found him...Unthinkable. He frowned, knowing indeed that Eran's guilty conscience had saved his love. Perhaps, some leniency was acceptable.

"Spy? What spy?" And she looked around, a bit of fear in her eyes. Until she saw the figure so mislabeled as a 'spy'. "Eran," she exhaled, recognizing him against a wall. The spark of nervous energy was gone, replaced with one of frank curiosity. He was involved? She had yet to hear his place in this and knowing Jareth's anger, it couldn't be good.

"Good to see you well, Sarah. I assume His Majesty means me, although I hardly think myself a spy. Obedient errand boy? Unfortunately. One who is glad to see you alive? Definitely."

"Spy," Jareth spat under his breath.

Sarah sighed. She saw where this was going. "The High King ordered you to spy? Or research or whatever?" She watched him nod apologetically, tilting his chin down. There was no doubt of his shame, almost identical to… "And you found Hoggle," she stated, no questions asked.

"I beg forgiveness. Not all orders of the High King prove well."

"Well," she started, giving Jareth a pointed look, "if I can forgive you for skirting the rules, I can certainly forgive Eran for following them."

Jareth colored at the jab, but she had him there. Her willingness to forgive seemed to be both a blessing and a curse, and the king pursed his lips, acquiescing. "Indeed."

Sarah's responding smile proved worth it. He groaned, knowing he'd gone soft. Oh the power she held over him…

"Good," she said, hugging Hoggle firmly. "I've missed you! How have you been? I'm so sorry I haven't called you recently."

"Err, good to see ya too, Sarah. I'm 'bout as well as can be expected."

Sarah pulled back grinning, oblivious to the thinning stare the Goblin King was perfecting behind her. But Hoggle saw it.

Hoggle cleared his throat. "…which is good, o' course. Always." Anything to make him stop glarin' at me. Oh bog it all, whatever'll make him go away.

"What have you been up to? Spraying fairies?" she questioned, still holding his shoulders.

A muscle in Jareth's neck twitched at the gesture. He crossed his arms impatiently.

"Err…ah, no. Hedges mostly…," he trailed off as the king's lips thinned to match his glare. Every word seemed to push the expression sharper. "I ahh, I really should finish 'em up."

"A wise choice, Hogswot."

"Hoggle."

"Don't matter, Sarah." And then, whispering carefully, "Call when you get home."

Home. Hoggle had no idea. "Actually, I'll be around…" Oh how to put this without sending him into a fit? "Jareth and I." She paused as Hoggle flinched. "We've settled our differences." There, that sounded diplomatic. And mostly true. "I may be spending some time here," she spoke slowly, gauging his reaction.

"Some time? How much time?"

"Eternity."

Sarah sighed. Always the drama king. She could handle this herself, thank-you-very-much. She eyed Hoggle warmly, willing him to understand. Please understand. Don't make me say it…

Hoggle just blinked.

Oh screw it. He'll find out eventually. "I love him."

"You…you…" The rest of the blood drained from his face, and he choked on his words. "You…you…and him?"

Sarah quirked a lip and shrugged apologetically. So much for that.

"Ah." He swallowed, darting his eyes to the Goblin King and back. "You…ah…been eatin' peaches again?"

"No peaches, Hoggle," she laughed. "I promise."

"Yer sure?"

"Positive."

" 's…nice…" He squeaked, forcing the word to sound polite. It was a rough shot, at best. He felt as if he'd swallowed Bog water. Probably looked like it too.

"You alright, Hoggle? I know it's a bit of a shock…"

"Ah, 'course. Fine. 'S long as yer happy." He tried a smile, but it came out more as a grimace. Then again, it was hard to do anything properly with all the ruddy fog coming in. Sarah was looking at him funny. Actually, she looked a bit hazy herself. Fuzzy, even. Which was bad. "Ah…"

He was on the ground before Sarah could catch him. "Hoggle!" Sarah yelled, shaking him, but he was out cold.

"How unfortunate. I was so looking forward to causing that myself."

Sarah glared at him. "Help. Me."

"As you wish." And he followed his words with a flick of wrist and the popping of a bubble. He grinned as the dwarf vanished from Sarah's arms. "Better?" He let an eyebrow quirk.

"No! Where'd you send him?"

"Where he belongs," Jareth spoke as if it were obvious. "Home. As do we."

"He fainted, Jareth. You can't leave him alone!"

He sighed, motioning to the space Eran had previously occupied. "Peace. The spy is watching him. It should be some time before he wakes. Believe me Sarah, this is not the first time my subjects have fallen unconscious from my mere presence." His eyes glowed with mirth. "You have met Hoggle, haven't you?"

"Well obviously I have…Hoggle. You called him Hoggle!"

Jareth's back straightened. "I most assuredly did not."

"Yes, you did," she grinned. "You most assuredly did."

Her smile was so bloody distracting. "You are going to ruin me, sweet," he growled. But he couldn't help but smirk. There were worse things to be distracted by. And he planned to enjoy being distracted quite thoroughly for next few hours or so. He bowed down a hand. "Shall we?"

She hesitated. "To the castle?"

"You'd prefer I ravish you here, perhaps?" he grinned rakishly. "As you wish."

"Very funny. I want to go home first. My"—she pointed up—"… above home. I need to pick up some stuff, tell Kate…something. She's probably got the cops out looking for me."

"Your troublesome blond house mate?"

"Roommate, but yes. And I don't even want to know how you know that." She narrowed her eyes in accusation while watching him for a reaction. Shame, guilt, anything. But he was as straight as stone. Figures.

"I believe that can be arranged."

"Now, Jareth," she pushed, knowing his skill for twisting her words.

"Of course, sweet. For you, anything." And with one last wolfish grin, the King of the Goblins and the girl fell into Above.

* * *

The mortal sun was peeking over the horizon when they reappeared, seconds later, atop a familiar wooden bridge. Sarah shivered. It was cold, air biting at tender skin. The chirping of birds and the earthy smell of morning left no doubt as to the time. It was some form of morning, days or however later, and Sarah took it all in with a liberal breath. It still felt the same, after all that had happened. Her world had stayed the same.

Even her banged up car waited on bridge's edge. The door had been closed, by wind or passerby, and the windshield was littered with leaves, but her ride was there nonetheless. It was an unexpected, but comforting sight. She figured someone would have towed it by now, days later…

"What day is it?"

"Here?" he cocked his head at her, considering. "I believe it the day of your moon."

The day of the moon? "It's only Monday? That's impossible! I left on Sunday, and its been at least two days Underground…" she broke off in confusion.

"Time flows differently in the realms. Surely, you remember that from before?"

"I thought you did that! You took three hours from my run and you clearly said you reordered time. What was I supposed to think?"

He laughed softly, moving to lean against her car. "On that, I can only guess," he murmured. "I assume you wish to move this odious contraption…" He flicked his wrist, and the leaves on the glass fell to the wood with barely a movement. In the sunlight, the car gleamed like new, almost glowing with magic. Opening the driver's door, he motioned to Sarah. "…yes?"

She nodded, anger ebbing with his effortless show. It had been as if the wind picked up just to ruffle the leaves free, yet he'd clearly orchestrated the move. If only she had that much control. She slid into the front seat as Jareth settled beside her. "You've got to teach me how you do that. I blow something up everytime I try," she sighed, buckling in.

His laughter echoed the whole ride back.

The windows were dark when they pulled up to number five-oh-two. Sarah wasn't surprised. It was still early. Kate would be sleeping in, if she was there at all. Only freshman were fortunate enough to have eight a.m. Monday classes. It was one thing no upperclassman missed.

"Umm. Maybe I better go in first. In case she's busy." Or indecent.

Jareth gave her a look that signaled he didn't buy her story one bit, but waved her out anyway.

She practically raced to her door, anxious to wake her roommate, before she realized she had no idea where her key was. Actually, now that she thought about it, she didn't know where either of her keys were. Her car had been running when she'd slid in and she hadn't even noticed the key-less response. Jareth's magic, obviously. But that didn't solve her problem here. Glancing over her shoulder at his mocking grin, she frowned, and knocked hard on her door.

A half dozen raps later, a sleepy voice yelled through the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming…Jeez, calm down…" And out poked a tousled blond head, yawning mouth, and wide blue eyes. "Sarah! My God, where did you go?"

"Hi Kate—long story. Can I come in?"

"Oh duh, sorry," she opened the door wide and about pulled Sarah inside. "Jeez, Sarah, what happened to you? We saw your car, but when I called your cell, some British guy claiming to be your friend kept answering and he said your car broke down, you were exhausted, and I'd see you in the morning!"

Sarah snorted. "He did, did he? Didn't mention he kidnapped me I bet."

"He what?"

"Like I said, long story," she huffed, falling into a chair. "Remember that night after finals last year? When I had a little too much tequila? And I told you that story?"

"The crazy one about the maze and the Goblin King?"

Sarah sighed. Of course she remembered. "Yeah, that one."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"It really happened, Kate."

"Very funny, Sarah." She rolled her eyes and settled a look at her friend. "Seriously, where have you been? I called the cops and everything—nobody had seen you!"

Sarah brought her hands to her temples, groaning. The last thing she needed was a search party. She could just imagine the story she'd tell them. 'Why yes, I was kidnapped. By who? Blond, obnoxious, yeay high, said he was a king. No, I'm not crazy. Can I tell you where to find him? Sure, do you have a younger sibling?' That would go over real well.

"Sarah?"

She'd been staring off into space. "I'm serious, Kate. It happened, and it didn't end there. That's where I've been. Down in the Underground, running the Labyrinth, with the Goblin King."

"Bullshit."

"No, really, I—" but that was as far as she got before a sharp knock echoed off the front door. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was. At least he had the courtesy to knock.

Kate furrowed her brow at the sound, but moved to get it nonetheless. Sarah waited in her chair for the eventual outburst. Any second now, she'd open the door, Jareth would be there in all his Jarethy glory, probably grinning like a maniac, and then Kate would promptly slam the door on him only to find it jammed open. Any second now.

"What is it now?" Sarah shot up in her seat at Kate's question, listening hard.

"Miss Wilson, I assume?"

"Yeah, who are you?"

"Jareth, charmed," he introduced warmly. "I wanted to ensure Sarah made it home safely. She was quite adamant about returning this morning. I do apologize for my brevity yesterday."

"Oh! That was you! Yes, thank you, she's fine. Come in, come in. I'll make coffee." Kate's voice melted like butter.

Sarah leapt to her feet, concerned. Kate was not one to invite strange men in for coffee. If Jareth was using magic on Kate, she'd give him a piece of her mind. That was completely inappropriate.

"Kate, wait—"

"Sarah, you want any?"

"No, Kate. Just listen. That's him; The Goblin King," she pushed, rounding the corner into the kitchen area. Kate was already pouring coffee into the maker and Jareth was…normal? His tight breeches and flowing shirt had been replaced by tailored black pants and a crisp white button-down. Even his hair had been pinned into a manageable state. Sarah was speechless. No wonder Kate had practically pulled him inside; he looked incredible.

"J-Jareth?" She swallowed. "What are you doing?"

"Your lovely friend offered me coffee. Come join us," he purred, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Come sit, Sarah. I promise I won't bite. Your way took far too long. I, being a magnanimous king, thought it best to offer my services.

Sarah glared at him. You gave me like two minutes. I was handling it fine.

Perhaps. But I find my way so much more amusing.

"So—Jareth was it?—tell me how you met Sarah." Kate offered a chair for Jareth before sitting down across the table.

"She called some five years ago and I answered. Quite the event, actually. We talked, we danced, she damaged my property. She was quite the spitfire. Couldn't even keep her wishes straight." He was grinning far too large. "That sound right, Sarah mine?"

Jareth… Sarah growled in warning. She didn't want her roommate thinking the worst of her.

"I was fortunate enough to meet her last evening and offer assistance. She's been at home with me since then. I do believe we've reacquainted nicely."

Kate nodded as if his story made complete sense. "You must live near here then. You work at the University?"

"Not quite," he replied, leaning back in his chair just as the coffee machine beeped. "Allow me. Cream and sugar?"

"Yeah, than—" Kate's appreciation died in her throat. Sitting on the table, in three expensive looking teacups, was the coffee. Jareth lifted the cup nearest him gracefully and took a small sip, watching Kate with amusement.

"What the hell? How'd you do that?" Kate wasn't amused.

Sarah sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Kate, allow me to introduce Jareth, the Goblin King."

"The guy with the maze? You expect me to believe he's a fairy king?" She scraped her chair back to stand. "Are you nuts?"

This isn't working, Jareth. Try something else.

With pleasure.

Sarah felt the change in the air well before she saw what his 'convincing' entailed. There was the hint of cinnamon and something warmer, spicier, like the smell of an Indian spice market, and richer than silk against her skin. Magic. His magic, she knew, as nothing else could compare. Why it'd never been so vivid before was a thought in passing, but as the scent blurred her eyes and tickled her throat, she let the warmth envelop her without pause. She barely noticed the sudden weight atop her chest.

"No fucking way."

And as quick as that, the warmth left. Sarah fluttered her eyes open slowly, as if coming out of a trance. She was still tingling. Kate eyed her with wide eyes.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Hunh?" Sarah sputtered and looked down in concern, honestly confused by her friend's shocked expression.

Her soft tunic and leggings were gone, replaced by a gown of the deepest emerald. It was corseted at the waist, with fitted bell sleeves and a heart shaped neckline that flattered Sarah's trim figure. A small replica of Jareth's insignia hung around her neck, nestled between her breasts. Sarah lifted it gingerly for a better look, eyeing the horns with surprise, and let is fall back against her skin.

"Jareth," Sarah sputtered, "I told you I'm not ready to be Goblin Queen."

"Queen? Sarah, seriously, what is going on?"

"As I told you, Kate, this, " she sighed and pointed to Jareth, "is the Goblin King. From the Underground. That's where I've been. And although he clearly likes the think of me as such, I'm not his queen. Not yet at least."

"Holy shit."

Sarah laughed, shrugging. "Surprise?"

"That's just…just…insane. I'm struggling here, Sarah. One minute you're having lunch with me and the next you're what, engaged to a king from another world? You barely know this guy," she lowered her voice, eyeing the monarch warily, "are you sure he didn't drug you?"

Sarah laughed again. "Not this time, I'm sure."

"What?!"

"Like I said, long story. But," she paused, "I may be moving out a bit sooner than expected. I'll still stop by after class to hang out, because I do want to graduate," she glanced quickly at Jareth, but his face was blank, "but do you think you'll be able to find another roommate to help with rent? I know it's the middle of the semester…"

"That will not be necessary."

Sarah turned back to Jareth, confused by his statement. Didn't he want me in the Underground?

He waved his hand carelessly and smirked. "I think you'll find I've more than accounted for Sarah's absence." Seeing the pair's questioning glances, he continued. "Go on, check your vault."

"My what? My bank account?" Kate rushed out of the kitchen, darting down the hall. "What did you do?"

Jareth…

Always so worried. Just wait, Sarah.

"AH!" Kate's yell echoed through the apartment. "Oh my God, that's impossible, I don't have that much in my account." She returned to the kitchen, face glued to her phone. "How is this possible," she whipped her head towards a grinning Jareth, "Did you…? I mean, jeez, I - thank you."

The king nodded once, and reached an arm around Sarah's waist. "Come Sarah, we are going home."

Kate had returned to staring at her phone in shock, but his order snapped her back to attention. "Now? But you just got here!"

"I'll see you soon, Kate."

"Promise?"

Sarah grinned. "Promise." She tilted her face towards Jareth's. "I'm ready."

"Finally."

And in an instant, the pair vanished from Above.

* * *

They reappeared seconds later in a bedchamber bathed in candlelight and crimson draperies. Jareth began suckling at the soft skin of her neck, but Sarah pulled away.

"Wait. Just one more thing."

"What. Now? You are impossible."

"I just wanted to get a few things straight. I told you I'm not ready to be queen." She picked at the pleats of her gown pointedly. "And I want to finish school. I'm almost done. And it means a lot to me to graduate, even if I won't really need my degree here."

Jareth's mouth thinned, but he didn't speak.

"I know you can poof me back and forth between here and there, so I don't see why that's a problem.

"Sarah," he growled, but Sarah cut him off with a kiss.

"Please? Just think of it as an engagement present." Sarah held onto his shirt, looking up with her best puppy-dog eyes.

He sighed. "Very well, precious. You can complete your pointless education. But," he paused, smirking, "it would appear you owe me an engagement present as well."

"Err, alright, what do you want?" she asked, knowing his list probably didn't include anything she could conjure.

He just grinned.

"Jareth?"

Before Sarah knew it, the back of her legs buckled as she hit the front of the bed, and Jareth had his lips trailing down her neck, her chest…his hand - glove less, she noted vaguely - found its way into her hair and Sarah arched her back into the comforter, content with her predicament. If this was what he wanted, she was happy to acquiesce, tangling her own hand into the hair at the base of his neck.

If one were to capture the emotions shared between the girl and her king in the hours afterwards, the picture would have sung. For love, relief, and exhilaration together painted an indescribable portrait. A portrait of a king and his love—someday queen—but his one and only love. They would never tire of each other, here, now, and forever.

For it has been said, forever is not long at all.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete! I'm finally getting around to editing my first attempt at fanfiction - posted some ten years ago on ffn.net. Story will be the same. Just, hopefully, free of my former grammatical mistakes.


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